The Lost Boy
by Spork Weilding Canary Of Doom
Summary: It's not just the "darkness inside" that our trio has awaken that they have to worry about... Something new has targeted our favorite, sarcastic sidekick... Can Scott, Allison, and Co. save Stiles not only from this new enemy, but from himself? Or will he succumb to this evil, doomed to be lost forever? ((Post Season 3a, pre Season 3b))
1. Prologue - Intro

Bastian trembled as the cold began to close in around him. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem to keep his eyes open… and he was so tired… so weak and so tired…

He had been on his bed at some point, but in his feeble attempt to escape the clutches of his captor he had fallen to the floor. The young man wasn't injured, at least not in the fall. No, his illness was deeper set than some tumble. It was in his veins, in his blood, in his heart… in his mind.

"Poor baby," said a low voice, dripping with a southern accent. Bastian could barely hear it. His fingers twitched towards the object of his desire.

"Puh… please…" the boy breathed out. A thin string of saliva lashed out from his pale lips as he spoke.

"Aww…" After a moment of soft noise, a pair of bare, bloodstained feet appeared in his fading vision. "Even as your life slips away from you… you want me."

A soft hand rand through his dark hair, soothing the dying boy. After a moment, Bastian opened his eyes and looked up into crimson ones.

"This is what you get, you know… You're _weak_…"

Red lips came close and placed the kiss of death upon the boy's own and he finally passed into the void.

"…I can only hope the _rest_ of your family's misery will satisfy my thirst."

* * *

"It's only for, like… a week, though, right?"

Stiles looked over at his friend, sprawled on his bed and bouncing a small ball off of the wall. Scott's apparent lack of concern only exacerbated Stiles' irritation, but he refrained from making a joke about Scott and his dog-like fascination with his stress ball.

"You don't get it," he replied, "I know my ultimate lack of supernatural mojo leaves a lot to be desired in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, but let's face it: if I leave and something murderous with fangs and scales and magical powers appears while I'm gone…" He paused and shrugged in defeat. "You'll basically fall apart."

Scott let out a laugh. "Fall apart?"

"Who else is as good at research as I am!? I mean, I'm the one who told you what _you_ are!" Stiles exclaimed as he haphazardly threw more clothes into an old duffle bag. "I tried to convince my dad, but he seems set on making me go… He even accused me of just trying to avoid this stupid trip altogether." He punctuated his rant by hucking a balled up shirt at the duffle.

Scott sat up, eyeing his best friend suspiciously. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't really seem all that keen on going. And not-" he interrupted as Stiles whirled around to retort "-just because we'll crash and burn without your supreme sarcasm."

At this, Stiles seemed to relinquish his irritation to defeat. He plopped down into his computer chair and sighed. "Yeah, maybe."

"Hey, man," Scott said, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to face his friend. "I wouldn't be all that excited about going to a funeral, either."

"We're surrounded by funerals, dude. It's pretty much a weekly event."

"So, what is it?" Scott asked, now unable to mask the concern in his voice.

A moment of silence passed. Scott waited patiently. After all those years of being best friends, he had become rather adept at telling whether or not Stiles was just being a drama queen or that something was truly bothering him. Despite his witty remarks, this was not a drama queen moment.

Finally, Stiles leaned forward and sighed. "It's just…" He sighed again and ran a hand through his overgrown locks, the tufts sticking out every which way. "Y'know… after my mom died… We sort of lost touch with that side of the family… I think it was hard on my dad." He didn't say anything about it being hard on him as well; he didn't need to. Scott may have been the only one who knew that Stiles was far from over his mother's death. The wit and sarcasm was just a shield. "And now someone else in the family dies in some… tragic manner."

"Were you guys close?"

Stiles shook his head. "No, I mean, we met a few times and he was cool and all, but you know how it is… Not all cousins are Dukes-o-Hazzard close." He leaned back in his chair. "It just sucks either way… And he didn't strike me as the 'junkie-type', y'know? Which – based on the fact that I have awesome powers of perception – means that no one else saw it coming, either. No one was able to stop it because they had no idea that he was even suffering."

"Stiles," Scott interrupted. He wasn't too sure they were still talking about his friend's cousin anymore. "No one can prepare for something like that." Stiles remained silent, so he went out on a limb and took the initiative. "I think you should go."

Stiles look up at his friend incredulously. "But-"

"No. Go. If anything, your dad needs you. You wouldn't let him face this sort of thing alone, would you?"

They stared at each other a moment before Stiles finally threw his hands up. "Well, damn, when you say it like that."

A grin spread across Scott's face. "C'mon, man! What're the chances that all Hell will break loose the one week you take off?"

"NO!" Stiles exclaimed, jumping up from his chair. "Do you know what happens when people say that!? That's it, I'm stay-"

A soft knock interrupted his speech, followed by the light creak of his bedroom door being pushed open. "Stiles?" came Sheriff Stilinski's voice. He stepped into his son's room, a visage of grim resignation. "You ready to go, son?"

Stiles glanced between his father and his best friend before letting out one final sigh. "Yeah, yeah, I'll take my stuff to the jeep. See you in a week, Scott. But don't forget to call me if _anything_ happens! I mean it! Lizard men, killer tree stumps-"

"Stiles," Scott and the sheriff said in unison.

He nodded. "Right. Jeep." He disappeared around the corner, but not before leaning back around, staring at Scott, and mouthing 'call me' at least once. Scott just stood and shook his head as he moved towards the hallway.

A heavy hand on his shoulder stopped him before he made it too far. "Sheriff?" he asked, glancing back.

"…thank you," the sheriff stated, a sad, but grateful smile on his face. The teenager smiled in kind.

"Of course."


	2. Should Have Brought A Werewolf

"And how come he didn't tell me?" Coach Finstock growled as he flung the next few days' worth of handouts at Scott.

"I'm sorry, coach… It was kind of unexpected for everyone in his family. Y'know… his mom's side…"

The eccentric couch pursed his lips a moment before snorting and turning away. "Just make sure you tell him to do these before Wednesday next week or he's failing for the rest of his high school career."

"Will do, coach," the werewolf replied with obvious irritation. He shoved the papers into his backpack and strode towards the door. He almost made it to the hallway before a familiar head of strawberry blonde entered his vision, soon followed by a loud crack and several stars.

"OH! Oh… Oh my god…"

Scott stumbled backwards into Finstock's desk, illiciting a few choice words from the coach, but not before registering Lydia's freaked voice. He slowly reached up and put a hand to his now throbbing forhead. "…aaah, that hurt."

"Seriously, Scott? You'd think that with your _reflexes_ you'd be able to avoid a full on collision!" she snapped.

"Yeah, yeah, just…" He glanced back at Coach Finstock, "just distracted." He shot his heartless coach a nasty glare. "Tragedy and all."

Lydia blinked. "Tragedy..?"

"See you later," he mumbled as he shoved past her.

"McCall!"

Scott stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Yes, Coach?"

Finstock seemed to fumble over his words for a moment, but eventually was able to force them out. "Tell Stilinski to take his time. If he needs to. Within reason!"

"Stiles…?" Lydia asked aloud. Scott ignored her.

"Thanks, Coach." With that, he quickly made his way down the hall.

"Wait!" Lydia called after him. Her heels echoed as she scurried to match his pace. "What do mean, 'tragedy'? And what's it got to do with Stiles?"

"It's nothing, Lydia," the werewolf replied. He had nothing against Lydia, but he knew that this was less about how Stiles was doing and more about satisfying the curiosity of a teenage girl.

"Is there a reason he's gone?" she asked, completely ignoring his attempts to rebuff her. He sighed.

"Look, he's just gone due to some family issues, alright?" Lydia blinked at him with her big green eyes, so he elaborated. "A cousin of his suddenly passed away and he and his dad are going to the funeral… It's on his mom's side of the family, so…"

"Oh," she finally replied. She looked away, an unreadable expression on her face. "Well. As long as it's nothing immediately detrimental to his health."

Scott smirked. "Wait… is that… concern I smell?"

Lydia's neutral expression was replaced with one of disgust. "Eww, gross! Don't ever say that again! And no! And… gross!" With that, she walked away, her heels clacking in the emptiness of the hallway. Scott couldn't help but grin as he overheard her mumbling something about all men being dogs, regardless of whether or not they were a werewolf.

* * *

It was harder to be around the grief than Stiles initially thought.

Despite the death that had become rather rampant in Beacon Hills, Stiles hadn't actually visited the homes of the deceased during the grieving process. There was nothing but an endless supply of tears, pain, and casserole. All in all, it made the teen sick to his stomach and he found himself fighting off a panic attack more than once.

He and his father had arrived the night before. Instead of staying in his aunt's home, they opted for a motel. Neither said they would rather have a motel, it just seemed like the easier option. They were able to prepare themselves better that way… During the drive, Stiles came to the realization that he hadn't seen most of his mother's family since her funeral several years back. It wasn't just his aunt's grief he'd be experiencing; without a doubt, everyone was going to be curious how the estranged father and son were doing… They would comment on how much Stiles resembled his mother and how greatly they missed her and old wounds would be reopened… He basically regretted the decision to go as soon as they started backing out of the driveway.

And he was right.

"Stiles?" said an elderly, but familiar voice. He turned to see his grandmother approach him with a warm, but sad expression. "Oh, my sweet grandbaby…" she whispered as she reached up to cup his face.

"It's been a long time, Gramma," he replied with a small smile. Tears welled in his grandmother's eyes as she took in his appearance.

"_Too long_," she continued in a whisper. "Claudia would scold the both of us were she here now." She gave his cheek a light pat.

Stiles couldn't help but smirk in embarrassment. "Yeah, you're right about that…"

"Stiles," his grandmother said, suddenly sounding very serious. He looked down at her frail hands as they gripped his. "You have to take care of yourself, okay sweetheart? I don't wanna lose anymore grandbabies. I've lived too long to see this much pain in our family."

For a moment, Stiles didn't know what to say. Finally, he nodded, suddenly aware that his voice had abandoned him. He grandmother gave him one last smile before moving on to other family. The teen just stood there as the tightness built in his chest and his breathing became pained. For a second, he thought he heard someone say his name, but the blood rushing in his ears blotted out most of the noise. It wasn't until the carpet beneath him gave way to linoleum, patio, and then grass before he eventually realized that he was being dragged away from the commotion.

Small hands were placed on his shoulders, forcing him to sit down on an uneven, wooden bench in what he assumed was the backyard. It was considerably more quiet out there, so Stiles figured he was alone with this stranger… No, not a stranger…

"Hey, kiddo…"

He knew that voice…

Finally, the tightness in his chest gave way and he took a deep breath of cool air.

"Woah, woah… slow down there, slugger." Those same hands were suddenly on his face. "Don't do that or you'll hyperventilate."

He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. It wasn't long before he was finally able to open them again. It was then that Stiles recognized his rescuer. "…Maggie?"

"Yeah, in the flesh," replied the petite girl. She took a seat on the bench next to him. "I could tell you weren't doin' so hot so I brought you out here for some fresh air…"

Stiles blinked in silence for a moment. "Me… me? But… Wait… YOU!" he exclaimed, jabbing a finger in his cousin's direction. "Everyone says you've been MIA since yesterday…"

"Yeah, well…" She paused a moment to light up a cigarette. "Forgive me if I don't wanna hang out in the house my brother died in at the moment." She pulled her shawl tighter around her small frame.

"…I'm sorry," Stiles replied. "I guess everyone's really worried about you." He turned towards her and finally got a good look at the cousin he hadn't seen in over seven years; what he saw shocked him.

He remembered her as an obnoxious and spirited little girl, but now she looked worn and haggard; aged beyond her physical years. He was certain that the death of her twin Bastian had a great deal to do with it, but it was more than just that. It was as if her skin was stretched over her skeleton, dark circles were prominent beneath her eyes, and her eyes themselves were… empty. Stiles saw nothing in them, not even grief.

"Maggie-"

"You shouldn't have come here," she whispered, flicking ash into the grass before them.

Stiles was a bit taken aback by her response, but didn't argue. "To be honest, I didn't really wanna come."

"No, you don't understand!" Maggie retorted. She flicked her cigarette away and grabbed Stiles' arm with a surprisingly iron grip. "You're in danger."

There was a moment of silence between them before Stiles erupted into laughter. Maggie seemed utterly surprised at his reaction; offended, almost.

"Danger?" he repeated, running a hand through his messy hair. "Oh, wow, if only you knew."

"Stiles!" his counsin growled. "I'm not kidding! It was incredibly stupid of you to come!"

"Sheesh, tell me how you really feel."

"I'm not talking about some stupid funeral dinner party!" she exclaimed. Stiles frowned.

"…I don't follow."

"I honestly didn't think you would have shown up… or I would've called and said to stay away…" Maggie was up and pacing by this point. "Shit, shit… first Bastian and me… then... No, no, I can't let that happen!"

"Maggie, what the hell are you talking about!?" Stiles exclaimed, standing as well.

Suddenly, the frail girl was inches from Stiles' face as tears formed in her eyes. "I brought this on Bastian… and now I've brought it on you… I should've seen this coming…"

"Maggie, Maggie," Stiles cooed as he attempted to hold her at arm's length. "This isn't your fault… okay? I know, I know it feels like it, but-"

"Damnit, Stiles!" his cousin exclaimed as she broke free of his hold. "She…" Without warning, Maggie's voice dropped to a whisper. "_She likes our blood, our skin…_" She reached up to touch Stiles' head. "_Even… even our hair…_" Slowly, Maggie began to push up her sleeve.

His heart sank to his stomach.

"I'm not following yet, but I definitely don't think I like where this is going."

A sob erupted from his distraught cousin. "Oh, god, Stiles… I'm so sorry… I'll fix this… I'll save you… as penance for what I did to Bastian… Oh, god it _is_ all my fault…"

Maggie eventually revealed redness around the edge of what looked like a wound on her arm, though Stiles couldn't place what it looked like before she jerked her sleeve back down.

"Maggie!?" came a voice from the porch. It was obvious she wanted to hide whatever it was from the rest of the family. "Oh, Georgine! It's Maggie! She's come back! C'mon, dear, let's get you inside… get you cleaned up…"

One of Stiles' distant relatives approached and began to lead Maggie away, but not before she leaned in and whispered to him, "_Tonight… in front of your motel around midnight… it'll be safe… I'll tell you everything… so you can save yourself…_" Maggie was finally pulled away. "Tell no one," she added.

Stiles just watched as relatives ushered Maggie into the house and out of view, leaving him to contemplate her words.

"'_She'…_" he repeated. He ran a hand over his face. "Great… I should've brought a werewolf with me."


	3. Strangers

It was the loud, shrill ring of her phone that served as Allison's rude awakening. Of course, she probably shouldn't have fallen asleep face-first in her homework. She bolted upright and haphazardly shoved around her books and bed-sheets until she managed to find her phone. The screen was brighter than her tired eyes preferred, but she still made out the name on display.

"…Stiles?" she asked after putting the phone to her ear.

_"Hey… so… I need a favor."_

Allison's brows furrowed in confusion. Stiles rarely called her these days and it was usually because something horrible was happening. "Um… Okay. Yeah. What's up?"

_"Scott's ignoring my calls."_

The brunette rolled her eyes and didn't bother masking the large sigh that followed. "Seriously, Stiles?"

_"Look, I think something weird is happening here and I just wanted to talk to him! You know, besties and all… I was hoping you could tell hi-"_

"Stiles, I'm not going to call him," she stated matter-of-factly. Stiles sighed into the receiver.

_"Could you guys pretend that there's _NOT_ a crap-ton of sexual tension between the two of you for five seconds and just help me out here?"_

Allison felt her face heat up. "Stop being such a girl, Stiles!" And with that, she hung up and tossed her phone to the edge of her bed.

It wasn't long before the blush in her cheeks turned from anger to embarrassment; it was _she_ what was being a girl… Allison pulled up her knees and tucked them under her chin. Despite how much she wanted to move on and put Scott McCall as far from her mind as possible, she still felt a whirlwind of emotions regarding the werewolf. And now, with the way Isaac had been looking at her and the butterflies he started a-fluttering in her stomach… It was turning into a bigger and bigger mess and she just couldn't keep up.

Besides, it wasn't Stiles' fault that she and Scott had their hormones all twisted up this tangled knot of… well… sexual tension.

The young hunter suddenly felt the need to prove to herself that she could do this, that she could have a civil conversation with Scott over the phone and not have it be laden with awkwardness. Besides, it wasn't like she was face to face with the werewolf… And it was for Stiles as much as it was for her. So, she reached for her phone and dialed Scott's number.

It rang only once before he answered. _"Allison?"_

"Stop ignoring Stiles' phone calls," she stated simply.

There was a pause before Scott replied. _"He… seriously called you and told you to tell me this."_

Allison couldn't stop the tiny smile that formed on her lips. "It's Stiles… Once he gets an idea in his head…"

Scott chuckled. _"Okay, yeah, you're right…"_

After a second of silence, Allison spoke up, refusing to let an awkward pause form. "Why are you ignoring his calls, anyways?"

_"Well…"_ Scott sighed before continuing. _"I suppose I just wanted him to focus on himself and his dad, y'know? Since it's probably tough on the both of them."_

Allison smiled and shook her head, despite Scott not being able to see her. "Just call him back, okay? I don't have time to play messenger for the two of you… not with all of this world history homework…"

_"Ugh, I hear you… I keep trying to get through Thucydides', but it's so dry…"_

"I know!" Allison exclaimed in agreement. "I don't get the whole connection to the rest of our lesson… other than the whole moral selection and mercy kill in war… thing."

_"Wait… how far have you made it into the reading!?"_

"Well, you know when…"

Allison carried on, explaining as best as she could the selected reading. Scott listened intently. For a night, they both forgot that they were at odds. They also happened to forget all about Stiles.

* * *

"C'mon, for cryin' out loud," Stiles growled as he called Scott for the hundredth time. At this point, he was losing hope that he'd ever get through to his friend… which is why he nearly jumped out of his skin when the werewolf's voice came through the receiver. "Jesus, what the hell took you so long!?"

_"I'm sorry!" _Scott replied earnestly. _"Allison gave me a call and we just got kind of carried away and I forgot call you… By the way, do you have any idea what time is? And how much homework I have to do?"_

"This is more important," Stiles replied. "I think something seriously messed up is going on around here."

_"Stiles…"_

"I'm serious!" he exclaimed. "Dude, I wouldn't have called you if I wasn't."

There was a long paused on the other end of the line.

"…okay, maybe. But you're missing the point!" Stiles stood and began pacing the motel room. It was dimly lit by a single lamp and he was alone; Sherriff Stilinski had offered to stay a little bit later at his sister-in-laws while everyone else helped calm Maggie down. Stiles was more than willing to wait at the motel.

_"So..? What's so serious that you called me over ten times?"_

Suddenly, Stiles felt rather indignant. "Y'know, I _could_ have been suffering from a mental breakdown."

_"I might have jumped to that conclusion if you _hadn't_ called me."_

"…touché."

_"So, this scary issue?"_

"Right," Stiles began. "So… As you know, my cousin died of a mysterious overdose… I already said that he wasn't really the type. The same goes for Maggie, his twin sister." He paused a moment to peek out of the window. "Well, I guess Maggie had been missing since he was found…"

_"Yeah, okay… that sounds suspicious…"_

"I hadn't even really thought about it until she showed up at the house, out of the blue. I dunno how anyone saw her because she practically dragged my hyperventilating ass out of a house full of people looking for her."

_"Wait… you were… Were you having a panic attack?"_

"It's not important," Stiles replied nonchalantly. "She basically just materialized out of nowhere and dragged me to some dark corner of the backyard and babbled cryptic nonsense at me."

Scott was quiet for a moment, obviously struggling with not asking Stiles about his panic attack, but eventually let it pass. _"What did she say?"_

Stiles plopped down on the edge of one of the creaky beds and ran a hand through his hair. "That's just it; it hardly made any sense. Scott, I know I haven't seen these people in… god knows how long… but I don't remember my cousin like this… She was like a walking skeleton, Scott. Like someone stretched her skin over some… crack head."

_"That's a lovely image…"_

"That's the point, it _wasn't_." Stile sighed in exasperation. "And it just got… _weirder_… She started to tell me about some… woman, I think? And she was going to show me something on her arm, but… Well, everyone freaked out when they saw her and rushed her inside."

_"…you said your cousin-"_

"Okay, I know I made the 'crack head' statement, but don't think it has anything to do with drugs. Remember? My powers of perception and the whole 'he's not the type' thing? Well, if he's not the…. _wasn't_ the type, then Maggie is, like, the _anti_-type."

_"What about what she was gonna show you? On her arm?"_

There was a moment of silence as Stiles contemplated. "No," he finally replied, "no, it's not like that… it didn't look like… anything normal… Like I said, she was taken inside before I could tell what it was… But that's not the weirdest part."

_"I'm listening…"_

"She wants me to meet her outside the motel room tonight. At midnight. In the cold and dark. To 'explain everything'…"

_"…and?"_

The teenager's eye twitched. "Are you _joking_? That doesn't sound like a bad horror movie to you!? I swear to god, when she started talking about this mysterious 'she who likes skin and hair' and was pushing up her sleeve I half expected _Alien_ to burst out and eat my face while _Poltergeist _children chanted 'they're heeeeere'…"

Scott's laughter sounded over the receiver. _"You seriously don't think you're overreacting at all?"_

"Look, I've gotten really good at running _away_ from spooky things. I'm not exactly prepared to face a potential threat, here!"

_"You don't know that, though. I mean, let's be realistic, Stiles. Isn't Beacon Hills, like… _THE _beacon? For supernatural things? Why would they be around over there? Tormenting your cousins? You said it yourself… they don't seem like they're involved in anything bad, but maybe they are… Maybe she's going to reach out to your for help. Hell, maybe this 'she' is just a metaphor or something for herself."_

"Oh, right… because walking out into the cold, dark night, totally defenseless while my cousin has a psychotic break is soooo much better. 'Hi, Stiles. Thanks for meeting me. This is my drug-dealer-pimp-ex-con-baby-daddy-boyfriend. Help me leave him?'…yeah I'm sure I'll be fine."

Scott laughed again. _"Stiles… I don't know what you want me to say… I can't really help you from here. Teleportation isn't exactly part of the werewolf power set."_

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, I know… I guess I just… Needed someone to hear my last words before I get kidnapped by a crazy Armenian drug lord and sold into sex slavery… Will you be my Liam Neeson, Scott?"

_"…if it ends this phone call so I can finish my homework, then yes. I'll be Liam Neeson."_

The teen nodded to himself. "Okay. Good. My spirit can rest knowing that you care at least a _little_ bit."

_"Good night, Stiles. Let me know how it turns out."_

Feeling only a little bit better, Stiles hung up the phone and resumed his earlier pacing. It was already almost midnight… He had no choice. Even if they were estranged, they were still family. And he couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was amiss.

He threw on his red hoodie and stepped outside into the cold. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to sit on the curb for very long.

* * *

_There was a quiet rustle to her right; a breath of sound on her left. Lydia Martin wasn't sure how she ended up in the middle of the street, surrounded by abandoned buildings on either side… but she didn't like it. These sorts of situations usually ended in her screaming like a lunatic. Or, in her case, like a banshee._

_ It took a single step on the cold, black pavement for her to realize that she was barefoot. Scratch that; one quick glance revealed to Lydia that she was completely naked. In the middle of the road. At night. In some god awful, deserted part of Beacon Hills' warehouse district. "Why me…" she whispered as she desperately tried to cover herself up. "Why does this always happen to me…"_

_ Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up. Lydia slowly raised her head to see a dark shape in the middle of the road, not more than thirty feet away from her._

_ "…He… hello?" she called out. Her voice was louder than she anticipated and jumped as it echoed off of the buildings surrounding her. "Umm…"_

_ "You're afraid…?"_

_ Lydia squeaked out a scream before throwing her hands over her mouth. She wasn't sure how it was possible, but it sounded like whoever the figure was had spoken directly in her head. Lydia didn't respond at first, just staring at the stranger with wide eyes._

_ "If you're afraid," the stranger said, his voice filtering into Lydia's head again, "you shouldn't be." He paused as the young woman slowly relaxed her posture. "I'm not going to hurt you."_

_ After a moment, Lydia realized that this stranger was right. Even as he took slow steps towards her she felt not fear, but… familiarity. "Who…"_

_ "You're prettier than I anticipated," the stranger spoke aloud this time. "Especially in this…" He stopped once he entered the light of the street lamp, only a few feet from Lydia now, "…state."_

_ A dark blush erupted on Lydia's cheeks and she quickly went back to covering herself as best as she could. "W-what are you doing here!? What am _I _doing here!? Who are you and… and where are my clothes!?"_

_ A small chuckle reverberated throughout the air around them; Lydia presumed it came from the stranger and narrowed her eyes at the man. At least, she believed he was a man. The voice she'd heard was masculine and so was the figure… tall, lean… He wore all black and his head was shrouded in a large hood that completely obscured his face._

_ "You must not worry about that now," he stated, taking a step closer. It was then that Lydia registered his strange accent. Slowly, he made his way forward and eventually disappeared behind her. "I just want to warn you."_

_ "Wuh… warn me?" Lydia said as fear finally began to surface._

_ Suddenly, a pale hand reached from behind her ear to gently run slender fingers through a strand of her silky hair. "Yes… about the bodies."_

_ "…Bodies? What bodies?"_

_ Lydia felt a cold breath on her ear. "Don't worry… they'll start piling up very soon."_

"NO!"

Lydia shot upright in bed, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. It took her a moment, but she eventually realized that it was nothing more than a dream… And yet… Her mind drifted back to the stranger and his warning.

"No… no more bodies…" she whispered to herself as she lay back down. "No more bodies…" She pulled the covers tighter around her.

"No… no bodies…"

* * *

The wind had finally died down, allowing Stiles' hands and feet a moment to thaw out. It was unexpected how cold the night was compared to earlier in the day. Stiles took a look at his watch: 12:18… Maggie was late.

"Waitin' on someone?"

"Woah!" Stiles exclaimed, whirling around to face the source of the voice.

"Oh, sorry!"

Stiles clutched his chest in an attempt to calm himself. "You scared me half… to…"

Finally laying eyes on the stranger, Stiles beheld a tall, curvy woman with fair skin and large blonde curls that trailed down to her waist. She smiled at him in embarrassment, her nose crinkling and her blue eyes shining in the night. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No… no it's… okay…" He cleared his throat and tried to regain his composure. "Um…"

"I-" the blonde interrupted, taking a tentative step towards Stiles, "I hope I'm not, y'know… interrupting anything."

"No! No… I'm just…" He waved his hand ambiguously. "…waiting for someone."

The girl smiled again. "Oh, yeah, me too." She took a few quick steps towards Stiles. "Mind if I wait here with you? I, uh… I don't mean to sound like a total girl, but… it's dark… and…."

It was then that Stiles noticed she was wearing nothing more than a thin black dress beneath a simple jean jacket. She didn't even have shoes on. "Oh, yeah… Go for it…"

"Thanks," she replied as she took a seat next to Stiles. "My lone sentinel!"

Stiles blushed, but he tried to hide it by looking away. As much as his mind was trying to focus on Maggie and her steadily worrying absence, he couldn't help that his eyes were slightly more focused on the solitary beauty sitting next to him. "It's no… um, no trouble."

"May I ask who you're waiting for?" She leaned in close and for a moment, Stiles caught bit of her fragrance… something earthy, yet sweet. "Is it your true love?"

Stiles smirked and tried to focus his gaze into the darkness of the night. "No, just a friend. Family, actually… but I'm starting to think she won't show... How about you?"

"Well, I certainly _thought_ I was… but I don't think she'll show, either…"

Stiles gave the woman a surprised look. "Sh… she?"

The blonde smirked at him. "Surprised?"

Stiles turned away and shook his head a little too vigorously. "No, no, I mean, what you like is your thing and if that's a girl that's fine I mean not that it pertains to me what I think or mean or yes. I'm a bit surprised."

The blonde laughed. "You're funny! I like that."

Stiles shrugged and checked his watch again in an attempt to ignore her sultry, southern accent. 12:23… It was too late to be dismissed. Something must've gone wrong.

"Y'know, I already told you," the stranger said, standing. "She won't show."

Stiles looked up the blonde. "…Huh? I thought…"

The girl began to twirl slowly. "Bastian was funny, too… I wonder if that runs in your family… just like that pretty, pale skin of yours." She glanced back, flashing red irises.

Stiles' eyes widened and he slowly stood up. "…what did you do to Maggie."

The blonde laughed. "Oh, don't you worry about her… I swear I didn't hurt her one lil' bit." She twirled around once more until she was facing Stiles. "I found a _new_ love…"

Stiles blinked nervously, feeling the sweat forming on his forehead. "…I don't-"

"Oh, please," the blonde cooed. She sauntered over to the teen; Stiles remained frozen in place. "Poor little Maggie didn't realize that I could taste her betrayal."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Taste…" The blonde smiled wide and ran her tongue across several sharp teeth. He suddenly remembered the sliver of a wound his cousin was going to show him. "Taste…" he repeated. He looked up at the woman before him with renewed anger. "What did you do to them? To Maggie and Bastian? No… You… Did you kill…"

"Bastian killed himself," the blonde replied. She reached up to touch Stiles' face, but he quickly recoiled. "He was weak. So is Maggie… But _you_…" She eyed him almost invasively. "I can already see the energy within you."

"You stay away from me," Stiles growled, pointing a finger at this new enemy. He then remembered her sharp teeth and jerked back his hand protectively. "From me _and_ my family… I know some pretty strong people, okay? Granted half of them are moody teenagers like myself, but I seriously doubt you can take them _all_ on. And I also doubt they'll let you get away with this. _I_ won't let you get away with this."

The blonde chuckled. "Sweet, little Stiles," she murmured. A shiver ran down the teen's spine; he never told her his name. "Why would I bother with your little… furry friends? All I want… is you." Stiles blinked in surprise and the woman giggled again and whispered, "I can smell the mangy mutts from here."

"B-but…"

"Shhh," the woman interrupted. "I can't waste any more time here… Besides, I imagine you'll have some matters to attend to soon… But, I can promise you two things." She began to back away from Stiles at that point; he couldn't help but loudly exhale a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "First: I will never harm a single hair on anyone's head ever again. Two: if you ever tell on me… I'll just go ahead an' break that first rule… and it won't end very well for you, your friends, and your already… incredibly depressing family."

Stiles clamped his mouth shut and stared daggers at the woman. She winked at him.

The sound of Stiles' cell phone ripping through the silence almost induced another heart attack in the poor teen. "JESUS!" he couldn't help but shout. He scrambled to grab his phone, but not before a quick glance upwards. The blonde was already gone. "Damnit!" His phone rang again. "OKAY ALREADY!" he shouted before answering. "Yes, hello!"

_"Stiles…"_

"…Dad?"

_"Stiles, it's Maggie."_

The teen's heart dropped. "What… what happened?"

_"I… I don't really know,"_ his father replied with a sigh. _"She was resting in her room when she… I don't know, Stiles, she just started screaming and destroying her room… She almost attacked her mother… We called the police and she's been taken to the hospital for sedation and is being observed for a while there. Everyone here is-"_

"We're leaving," Stiles stated. He looked off into the darkness of the night, still sensing he was being watched. "Immediately after the funeral." They had to get out of there as soon as possible.

_"Stiles…? Are you alright?"_

"I just… need to get out of here," he whispered. Again, the all too familiar tightening in his chest started to return. This entire situation had changed completely and it was suddenly overwhelming. He turned to go back inside the motel room, but his knees buckled and he collapsed onto the sidewalk.

_"Stiles!? Stiles!"_

The young man tried to prop himself up on his knees, but his labored breathing made it impossible. Somewhere out of reach he could hear his dad shouting through the receiver, but Stiles sank to the cold concrete.

"I just… need… to leave…" he whispered before slipping into unconsciousness.

A pair of bare, bloodstained feet danced in his vision for a split second… and then the void swallowed him.

_"I'll see you again, my love… very… very soon."_

* * *

Author's Note: Excited for the new episode tonight? I am! And sorry about this excruciatingly long chapter… I couldn't figure out where I wanted to end it and I just kept writing!


	4. So We Meet Again

The ride home was quiet. Neither Stiles nor his father said more than ten words the entire trip, although the sheriff sent more than a few worried glances his son's way. If Stiles was annoyed by his furtive looks, he never mentioned it. In fact, that was part of Sherriff Stilinski's concern; Stiles looked as though he was a million miles away and yet his brow was furrowed so deeply that sweat formed at his temples. Whatever it was that was troubling him – be it his cousin or his panic attacks – made the Sherriff almost afraid to ask.

It wasn't until Stiles pulled the jeep into their driveway that his father finally decided to speak up. "Son…"

Stiles was motionless. He hadn't even removed his hands from the wheel. However, he relaxed his tensed body as if suddenly realizing that there was nothing to worry about. "Hmm?"

"…about this week-"

"Dad-"

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his shoulders slumping and the lines deepening in his face. "I had no idea it was going to be so tough on you… I really thought that-"

"Dad," Stiles repeated. The sheriff looked up into the soft brown eyes of his son. "It's okay, really. I just… freaked out a little bit, y'know? It happens."

"Stiles, I found you unconscious on the sidewalk in front of our motel… in the middle of the night."

Stiles' lips pursed. His father had a point… But he couldn't just blurt out that an evil yet sexy demon lady had possibly killed Bastian and then driven Maggie insane. He had to sort out the experience first, tell Scott second, and _then_ he might say something to his dad. He was still struggling with mentioning _anything_ to _anyone_…

_"If you ever tell on me…"_

He suppressed a shiver. "I think… it was good for me, y'know?"

Sheriff Stilinski gave his son a deadpan expression. Stiles responded with dramatically rolling his eyes.

"No, I don't mean passing out face-first into the concrete… I mean, like… exposure therapy… As much as neither of us wants to admit it, we can't avoid that side of the family forever. I mean… look at what happened… What if we could have helped them, y'know?"

Another moment of silence passed between the two of them before the sheriff sighed in resignation. "You're right," he stated. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try keeping in touch better. Especially now that Maggie…"

"We'll figure it out, Dad," the brunette replied with a quick smile. Sheriff Stilinski returned it, but as his son got out of the jeep he couldn't shake the feeling that there was still something off…

He shook his head. "I just need sleep…" he mumbled to himself. "…wacky freakin' weekend…" And with that, he grabbed their bags and followed Stiles into the safety and familiarity of their home.

Their big, lonely, empty home.

* * *

"It was the weirdest thing – well, maybe not the _weirdest_ dream I've ever had… but still!"

"True," Allison said as she took a seat behind Lydia. "But it sounds pretty mild… Are you sure you should be worried about it?"

"Um, have you looked at my track record, Allison?" the strawberry blonde reprimanded. Allison shrugged her shoulders, but she knew Lydia was right. "Besides, I never said anything about being 'worried'…"

The brunette smirked. "Then… why are you telling me about your naked dreams?"

A blush of frustration appeared on Lydia's cheeks. "Yeah, good point… _why_ _am I telling you this_…" she grumbled, turning around to face the front of the classroom.

"Probably because we're kindred spirits in our weirdness?" she offered. Lydia didn't reply, so she dropped it.

A few moments later, Scott walked into the classroom, followed by the bell. Lydia couldn't help but notice that Stiles wasn't with him. "Alright, everyone," the teacher began in a droll voice. He sounded just as excited about Monday as everyone else. "Let's see… Mr. McCall! No Mr. Stilinski today?"

Scott just shrugged. "I thought he was coming back today, but-"

The classroom door flung open and Stiles rushed in. "Sorry! Sorry… running a bit late today," he offered as he crashed into his seat. He nodded in acknowledgement to Scott, but otherwise offered no excuses or explanations for his tardiness. The teacher chose to ignore Stiles' late entry and continued on with his usual morning routine.

"Dude," Scott said after a moment. Stiles leaned back, but kept his attention forward.

"Huh?"

"Is… everything okay? I thought you were gonna call me…"

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine. Nothing to report," Stiles replied. Scott frowned. It wasn't like Stiles to brush him off, but he decided to approach him about it over lunch; no use causing raucous in class when he wasn't being too forthcoming anyways.

The classroom door opened again and one of the school secretaries poked her head in. "Mr. Duke has finished his orientation…"

"Ah, yes, yes, I almost forgot," the teacher replied. "Class, we have a new student joining us today… Come on in."

What followed was a tall, slender boy with fair skin and amber eyes. He wore simple black jeans and a black hoodie, but they did nothing to dull his striking appearance – especially the vibrant, red hair curling around his face. Lydia bit her lips and looked him up and down. "Well… hello…" he murmured. Behind her, Allison rolled her eyes.

"This is Clyde Duke… If I remember correctly, Mr. Duke… you're from somewhere in Europe?"

"Exotic, too," Lydia whispered to no one in particular.

The new student smiled, flashing brilliantly white teeth, and looked down bashfully. "Yes," he replied in a strange accent, "but it's a secret."

Lydia's brow furrowed. Something suddenly seemed very familiar about the new kid… She leaned forward.

"I leave it to you," he continued, looking up and directly into Lydia's eyes, "to guess."

The young woman froze. She knew _exactly_ where she had seen him before… where she had _heard_ him before. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as the teacher said a few more words and the new kid – Clyde Duke – took a seat at the front of the room. Lydia remained motionless as thoughts of a dark road, a hooded figure, and a strange voice invaded her mind. She didn't notice when Scott slowly turned to face her with a concerned expression.

"Lydia," he whispered, but she was unable to hear his voice. "Lydia, I can hear your heartbeat from here…" She still didn't respond, so Scott gently flicked Stiles' arm and glanced back. Stiles twisted around in his seat.

"…woah… Lydia? Hey… You okay?" he asked, waving a hand in front of her face. "Hellooo…"

"Mr. Giles!" Lydia shouted, standing up suddenly. Stiles clutched his heart in surprise and all eyes turned to her – except the new kid's. The teacher's hand was still at the chalkboard, mid-letter.

"…Miss Martin?"

"I… I'm… I'm not feeling well. I need to go to the nurse," she stated. The teacher blinked at her for a moment before giving her a confused nod. The entire class watched silently as she threw her belongings into her bag and rushed out. Stiles and Scott looked at each other, then to Allison, but all three shrugged in unison. Whatever it was, none of them knew.

With a quiet sigh, Stiles turned back to the front of the classroom only to find that the new kid was staring at him. Stiles leaned back with a surprised expression and the redhead turned away, but he didn't miss the knowing smirk on his face. The rest of the class period was uneventful, much to Stiles' relief… Not only had he overslept, but he knew he was going to be fending of Scott's concerned looks all day and now Lydia was acting strangely again and the new guy was giving him looks…

He sighed and let his head fall to the desk with a loud thud.

* * *

"I swear to _god_ that was the same voice!" Lydia squeaked as Allison took a seat on the sickbed next to her. "I'm not crazy… right!? I mean, considering how things go in our lives… this doesn't necessarily mean that I'm imagining things, right?"

Allison gently rubbed her friend's back, but the concerned look on her face remained. "You don't think it just sounds the same? Like, so similar that you might mix them up?"

"I heard his voice in my head, Allison," she retorted. "I'll never forget it… And his accent even matched."

"You never mentioned he had an accent…"

"And he looked _right… at me…_" Lydia continued. "And I just… I know it's him…" She whirled around. "Please, you have to believe me…"

"I do!" Allison reassured. "I do, I promise… but, now we have to figure out what to do about it…"

"What if he's dangerous!?" Lydia whispered. Her eyes were wide with fear.

"He didn't try anything today… and nothing in your dreams either, right?" the brunette replied. "So… let's just move cautiously, okay? We can… go talk to him alone, y'know? Ask him a few questions. _I _can even talk to him if you like… But we should play it cool for now." She nodded to herself.

"What about Scott? And Stiles? And all the other werewolves around here!? What if he's come for them and _I_ drew him here!?"

"_Lydia!_" Allison said sternly. She placed her hands on her friend's shoulders. "I'll tell Scott and Stiles about Clyde Duke, okay? You just be careful until tonight. I'll come over and we can make sure he doesn't try anything while you're sleeping, okay?"

Lydia slowly looked up. "You mean… you'd just stand guard… all night?"

A smile touched Allison's lips. "Of course. We're… sort of like a team, y'know? You, me, Stiles… Scott and Isaac… Even if we're mad at each other… we look out for one another. Like a family."

A flat expression appeared on Lydia's face. "Are we still talking about me?" she asked. Allison rolled her eyes and stood.

"Just try to keep calm, okay? The secretary is right outside, so no one is getting in here. Rest up. I'll be back around lunch." And with that, she left.

"Right…" Lydia said to herself as she peered into the shadowy corner of the room. "I'll just… rest…"

* * *

It was loud in the lunch room where most of the students had gathered to escape the chilled outdoors. "I can't believe they're still allowed to serve this… slop to the youth of America…" Isaac mumbled as he dropped his tray onto the table.

"I think that it's supposed to be mac'n'cheese…" Scott said, leaning in close.

A disgusted look crossed Isaac's face. "I thought it was chicken strips…"

Noises of repulsion coupled with laughter followed. The only thing missing was the usual sarcastic comment from Stiles. Scott looked over at his friend; Stiles was absentminded pushing the mush around his plate. "Hey," the werewolf said, nudging him with his elbow. "You okay?"

"Mhmm," Stiles replied, not looking up. Everyone else was observing him, now. His jaw tightened, but he just shrugged and lifted a forkful of the mash to his nose. "I'm fine, just waiting for one of _you_ guys to try it first… I've never trusted a school lunch less than I do mac'n'cheese-chicken-strips… I vote Isaac."

"What!? Why me!?"

"Because you're kinda like the newest member, which means you hafta do all the grunt work. Seniority rights and all that."

After that, lunch resumed its usual vigor. And Stiles went right back to spacing out.

Allison joined them shortly after. "Lydia's doing better," she reported. There was a moment of concerned questions, then back to normal high school conversations about homework and crappy teachers. Allison looked over at Stiles, realizing that not only had he not immediately asked about Lydia's wellbeing the moment she arrived, but he seemed almost… unconcerned with her altogether. It was obvious that something was on his mind, but she chalked it up to an emotional weekend and left it alone.

It didn't help that she had to find some way to inform the others about Lydia's dream and the connection it may or may not have with Clyde Duke… and that if it did, what they were going to do about it.

* * *

"Seriously. Do I have to, like… submit it in writing that I'm honestly alright?" Stiles asked as he spun around in his chair. Much to his chagrin, Scott had followed him home after school and demanded to stay until Stiles told him what was up. He had been there almost three hours and Stiles had done nothing but avoid the subject or give short, nondescript answers.

"…why are you doing that?" Scott asked. He crossed his arms and stared expectantly at his best friend.

Stiles sighed dramatically. "Doing _what_ exactly?"

"Trying to make it seem like you weren't freaking out the other day and that whatever it is isn't still bothering you!"

They stared at each other for a moment before Stiles let out another sigh. "It's not like that…"

"You said you were going to call me back once you met with you cousin, but you didn't… And you keep avoiding the subject. You really think with how freaked out you were I'm going to believe that she met you and just wanted someone to talk to…?" His friend didn't meet his eyes; Scott finally realized he had caught Stiles in a lie. "…just tell me the truth, man. What's wrong?"

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "You want the truth?" he asked quietly. Scott didn't respond, so he continued. "…she never showed up."

"…really?" he asked. "She just never showed up?"

"Yeah," Stiles said curtly. Scott's brow furrowed.

"Then… why didn't you just say so?"

"Because…" Stiles paused and looked down. "I had another panic attack."

"…Stiles, that's two days in a row, man."

"I know!" Stiles exclaimed. "And that's why I didn't wanna say anything. It's not a big deal, Scott, I just had a rough time and I'm just a little tired and it's not a big deal and-"

"Stiles!" Scott said, raising his hands. "It's okay! It's okay, I get it."

"No, I said I'm fine, and… wait… really?" he asked in disbelief. Scott smirked and let out a small laugh.

"Yes, I do," the werewolf replied. "You didn't hafta lie about it, though."

A sheepish smile touched Stiles' lips. "Yeah, I know… I guess I just didn't want you to overreact or something."

"Me. Overreact," Scott replied incredulously. They both let out a chuckle.

"Okay, okay, so I do weird things sometimes! You turn into a furry critter and run through the woods at night and I… act like a high school girl sometimes…"

"Stiles… that's… not exactly flattering for either of us…"

"…touché."

Scott stood and slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Now… Can I go do my homework?"

His friend motioned gallantly towards the door. "You are excused."

* * *

He wasn't sure what woke him up; his window was cracked to allow cool air to circulate into his room, so it could have been that… but he also felt hot, agitated… so perhaps it was that. Either way, Stiles found his eyes fluttering open in the middle of the night unexpectedly. Unfortunately, no matter how much he tossed and turned, he just couldn't fall back asleep.

"Trouble gettin' comfy?"

"WOAH!" Stiles exclaimed as he flew from his bed. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but he eventually able to make out a halo of blonde curls from the moonlight in his window. The southern accent was also unmistakable. "Jesus! YOU! IT'S YOU!"

"My name's Daliah, not Jesus… And you should probably calm down, lest we wake your father."

At this, Stiles clamped his mouth shut. "…wuh… what are you doing here…" he whispered. The blonde monster stepped closer to him and he shakily backed up… until collided with the wall and could move away no further.

"Hmph," she smirked. "I told you I'd see you soon." Slowly, she reached up towards Stiles' face, but he jerked away. "Aww, c'mon, now… I have no intentions of hurtin' you… In fact, you were such a good little boy, not tellin' anyone about our little… meetin'," She trailed a sharp, glass-like fingernail down his cheek, "that I wanna reward you for your good behavior."

"Re…reward me?" he squeaked. Daliah smiled her eye-crinkling smile.

"You have the most… beautiful natural blush to your cheeks…" She trailed her nail down his jaw line and eventually his collar bone. "Must be this… pale skin of yours… I hope it never fades."

Stiles clenched his teeth. "Y'know, I was really hoping you were a bad dream…"

"What a _terrible_ thing to say!" she said with a pout. "Especially after I said I'd be rewardin' you."

"Yeah? And what the _hell_ does that mean?" Stiles asked, trying to mask his trembling voice with sarcasm.

The blonde clucked her tongue and cupped Stiles' face in her small hands. "Oh, you poor baby… Don't you know I can smell your pain from a mile away?" She snaked one hand around the back of his head. "I only want to take it away… I promise you… you will learn to enjoy this."

Stiles' eyes widened. "Enjoy? Enjoy what?"

The blonde's eyes glinted dark red for a moment and she smiled... a big smile full of razor sharp teeth. "This."

Before he could react, Daliah grabbed a fistful of his overgrown hair, jerked his head back, and sank her teeth into his neck. A yell of pain almost passed Stiles' lips, but Daliah was faster and threw a hand over it. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried to fight his way out from her grasp, but the blonde monster remained rooted in place like a brick wall.

That wasn't the only strange thing.

Without warning, his limbs began to lose strength…. along with the rest of his body. The first conclusion that Stiles' mind reached was that this crazy lady was a vampire sucking out all of his blood, causing him to lose consciousness from blood loss. After a moment longer, however, he realized that this couldn't be the case; he felt no blood dripping down his back. In fact, he was starting to feel nothing at all… absolutely nothing.

A haze filtered into his mind and, eventually… he dropped his limbs and stopped fighting it. As much as it went against every instinct he had, Stiles was succumbing to the numbness, the weightlessness, the… nothingness.

Daliah finally pulled away with a gasp; as Stiles suspected, her lips were clean. "Feels good, doesn't it?" she cooed as she released her prey. Stiles slid down the wall. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his mind _or_ his eyes to focus on anything other than the comfortable numbness… and on the smooth, low voice of the blonde before him.

"Hh… how…" the teen tried to say, but nothing seemed to be cooperating.

"I told you, Stiles…" Daliah knelt down and cupped his face yet again. "I only wanted to reward you… I said that I can smell your pain, darlin'… I'm here to take all of that away."

He looked at her through hazy eyes, trying desperately to process her words. "But… Mags…"

"She and Bastian were… weak," she said quietly as she ran her hands down Stiles' bare chest. "But, not you, Stiles… You're strong… I can tell." She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "You… you run with _wolves_ and _banshees_… your pain, your anxiety, your fears… they're electrifying." Stiles didn't reply. Instead, he slowly reached up to the wound on his neck. "Awww, I know it hurts at first, baby," Daliah said with sickly sweet words, "But I meant what I said… _You'll learn to enjoy it_."

With that, she stood and danced over to the window. The moonlight seemed to dance with her as she spun in small circles. Stiles could hardly focus on her spinning form, so he tried to stand. Daliah just watched him with an amused expression as he attempted to prop himself upright… only to have his knees buckle and send him crashing to the ground.

"Might wanna wait until the… euphoria wears off, sweetheart," Daliah comment. She sauntered towards him and used a single bare foot to roll him over onto his back. "And one more piece of advice…" she whispered, leaning down to give him one more kiss on the reddening bite-mark. "I'd wear something conservative tomorrow… We still want your dear ole daddy to be safe, now don't we?"

Stiles said nothing, slipping into warm unconsciousness.


	5. I'm Not Okay, I'm Not Okay

Derek Hale finally came to a stop, his chest heaving and his breath forming around him in soft, white puffs. Instead of the normal morning routine, he had felt motivated enough to run the entire length of his property. Twice. The burn in his muscles was worse than normal, but it felt fantastic.

Here, in the cold morning, he felt very much at peace. Anger came naturally to the werewolf, so he had taken up more than just his usual workout routine and upped it to extreme cardio; the burn in his lungs seemed to burn out all the excess anger in his mind… calming him…

Until the scent of blood gently riding the breeze blew past him.

Suddenly on high alert, Derek turned towards the source of the scent. Already, he could smell the decay of the corpse that the blood belonged to. In fact, smelling a fresh kill from local wildlife wasn't uncommon. Smelling a dead human, however… He shook his head and took off towards the source of the scent.

Truth was that human death wasn't all that uncommon around these parts, either.

It didn't take him long to reach the body. It wasn't anyone he recognized and, judging from the clothing and emaciated appearance of the young… woman, he determined that she was either a vagrant of some kind or one of Beacon Hills' homeless. Regardless, it wasn't her disheveled and ragged appearance that caught his attention. Derek leaned down slowly to get a closer look at the gaping wound on her neck. Whatever had done this had a _lot_ of teeth… And, strangely enough… was completely uninterested in the rest of the body. A single bite. That was all.

"Uncanny, isn't it?"

Without missing a beat, Derek whipped around and faced the source of the voice. Luckily, thanks to years of carefully practiced control and that morning's rather exhausting run, he was able to keep his teeth and nails at bay. The menacing look in his eyes, however…

"Woah, woah," the stranger said. "Relax; I am only here to inspect the body." He slowly lowered his hands from the 'surrender' pose. "Seems you are here to do the same."

"And you are?" the werewolf all but growled.

"Clyde Duke," the stranger replied. Derek noticed his strange accent. "At least, that's who I've been for a while." He moved towards the victim and knelt down to inspect the wound at her neck. "And you must be one of the many wolves I've seen running around…. Hmm?" He glanced up at Derek with dark, amber eyes.

"…must be. And what does that make you?" He paused a second to give Clyde a once-over; non-descript black clothing, slim frame, pale skin… nothing in particular seemed special about this _kid_… save the fact that he had absolutely no scent whatsoever.

Clyde sighed and stood, putting his hands in his pockets. "That's not really important right now."

"You're standing over a dead body on my property," Derek replied flatly. "I think it _is_ important."

The smaller man smirked. "Touché." He turned back to the corpse and pointed. "Do you know who this is?" he asked. Derek was still a moment before shaking his head, his eyes never leaving Clyde. "Her name is Amelia Morris. She was almost twenty-seven years old… She had been homeless since she was sixteen… Just passing through town." He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I believe heroin was her drug of choice, but it's hard to tell with the toxins from this bite still permeating her organs… What, you can't smell it? Like sugar."

"Wha-" Derek began, but just then another breeze wafted through. The scent of blood and death was much stronger, but he was also able to pick up on the smallest hint of something… sweet.

"Aaaah, you do," Clyde replied.

"What is it?"

"Difficult to explain," Clyde replied. Derek blew air out of his nose in frustration. Clyde laughed. "I know, it's no fun when you don't get answers right away, but trust me when I say that it's for your own good… This is something you don't want to go against all by yourself."

"What are you talking about," the werewolf asked as frustration colored his tone.

"Let's keep this between us for now," he replied, completely ignoring Derek's vehemence. "We can't attack her until we ostracize the source of her power. This…" He waved his hand halfheartedly at the corpse. "This was just a midnight snack."

"What 'she'? What 'source'!?"

"I'm doing some detective work… I don't know where she's hiding yet, but I have a feeling her little 'pet' is one of Beacon Hills' shining young minds at the high school." He smirked at Derek. "She likes them young."

"Y'know, for a guy who talks a lot, you _really_ suck at saying things."

"Keep an eye out for more bodies," Clyde instructed. "If someone other than a transient shows up… then we're in trouble."

Derek closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "If you really think you can just show up here and give me orders…" But, when he opened his eyes, the young redhead was gone. So was the corpse. He looked around the small clearing, but there was no trace of the man. No scent, no sound, just… nothing.

After a moment, the werewolf sighed and rubbed his temples. His invigorating and refreshing morning had just ended with a mysterious boy and a body. And now both were gone. And Derek was left with nothing more than a cryptic warning.

Feeling rebellious towards the stranger's instructions, Derek turned and began the long jog home. He dealt with enough craziness on his own, there was no way in Hell he was about to take on more without some help.

OoooO

It took a moment, but as soon as Stiles' mind was conscious enough to register it, a strange burning sensation woke him from sleep. It was somewhere on it his neck… a deep seated tingle that was just annoying enough to make him move.

"Oh… my god…" he mumbled into the carpet.

It was then he realized that he was indeed on the floor. And, judging by the aches and pains in his back, he had been there all night. Even as he tried to move his limbs they felt as if they were filled with lead. Stiles' body wasn't the only thing that was sluggish; his mind was shrouded in a fog he couldn't explain, something more than just the usual morning sleepiness.

After gathering his wits together, Stiles attempted to push himself upright. However, he was unsuccessful. _Why?_ _Why…_ Giving up on his body, he spent the next few minutes trying to piece together what had happened… how he ended up on the floor, why everything about him moved so slowly, why… why his neck was on fire… on _fire…_

_"Oh, you poor baby… don't you know I can smell your pain from a mile away?"_

It all came flooding back to him… those blonde curls and those white, sharp teeth…

_"I only want to take it away…"_

Sharp teeth coming closer…

_"I promise you… you will learn to enjoy this…"_

"NO!" he shouted, adrenaline suddenly flowing into his limbs and bringing him back to life. The teen backed violently into his desk, causing various papers and knick knacks to fall around him and the drawers to crack loudly from the impact. He brought his hand up to the burning bite on his neck; he had managed to jar himself awake and the pain from that monster's bite was subsiding to a dull ache, but that did nothing to calm his nerves.

No matter how hard he clamped his eyes shut, he couldn't get her voice, her lips, and her scent _out_ of his mind. And he certainly couldn't forget the strange numbness she had brought upon him. With one bite, she had taken away… everything… Nothing but numb complacency remained. He couldn't even fight back.

The odd thing was, however… that he can't remember _wanting_ to.

That's when Stiles heard the heavy steps of his father. "Stiles?" the sheriff called less than four feet away from his door.

_"We still want your dear ole daddy to be safe, don't we?"_

Suddenly remember the monster's not-so-idle threat, Stiles shot upright, grabbed his hoodie, and pulled it on. He hadn't even pushed his head all the way through when his dad pushed the door open. "Oh, hey dad," he mumbled groggily.

Sheriff Stilinski gave him an odd look, but Stiles just chalked it up to the hoodie still half-stretched oddly over his head. "I… thought I heard you yelling…"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, I just… ran into my desk," the teen explained. "Y'know… just having a minor wardrobe malfunction… in case you didn't notice."

"I noticed…" his dad replied.

"Yeah, I'll just… finish dressing myself…" Stiles murmured as he slowly pulled his head the rest of the way through, careful to keep the hood up. Suddenly, he wasn't feeling too steady; he guessed it was the adrenaline rush wearing off. He teetered for a moment.

"Woah… Stiles… Are you- Stiles!" He didn't have the opportunity to finish his thought as Stiles' legs gave way and his father lunged forward to catch him. "Stiles!?"

The teen quickly pushed away from his dad. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said as he attempted to stand on his own. "I got a little light headed is all."

"Stiles, your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head…" He kept his hand on his son's shoulder regardless of being rebuffed. "And you look a little pale… Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Stiles was really tired of being asked that. However, he couldn't deny that he wasn't really feeling up to snuff. "…maybe I'll sit down," he conceded, plopping down on his bed.

"Here, look at me," the sheriff said. Stiles pulled the hoodie tighter around him before peering at his father. Sheriff Stilinski looked intently at his son's face. "You _do_ look a little flushed," he observed, putting a cool hand to Stiles' forehead. Without meaning to, the teen closed his eyes and leaned forward, the cold feeling wonderful against his hot skin. "Jesus, you're burning up."

"You think… maybe lying on the cold cement in the middle of the night for an hour had anything to do with it?" Stiles asked. The sheriff pursed his lips.

"Son, you could have said you weren't feeling well."

"I really thought I was okay!" Stiles retorted. His meek voice did little to sway the argument in his favor. Regardless, the sheriff didn't press the issue.

"Look, why don't you stay home today? I've got some cold medicine around here somewhe-"

"NO!" Stiles exclaimed, but quickly regretted it. He was lucky he could think on his feet. "I don't want to get farther behind in my classes than I already am, Dad."

The sheriff sighed. "So call Scott. Have him bring your stuff by after school. Or after lacrosse."

Stiles gave his father a sly grin. "Are you _really_ going to try and convince me to stay home sick? Doesn't that seem kind of… backwards to you?"

Sheriff Stilinski opened his mouth to retort – twice – but nothing came out. "Alright, fine. But if you pass out onto a handrail and get a concussion, you're… grounded… or something… Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Stiles replied enthusiastically. His father didn't seem convinced, but he dropped it and left.

Truth was, Stiles had no idea how he was going to make it through the day feeling like he did. Any other day, he wouldn't've argued with his father. However, the _last_ thing he wanted was to be left alone again… not with the possibility of _her_ showing up in his weakened state.

_"My name's Daliah…"_

"Daliah," he whispered. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered his close encounter once more. "Nope," he said to himself. "Definitely_ not_ staying here." He smacked his cheeks in an attempt to wake himself. He had survived his father… now he just had to figure out wither or not to say anything to the others.

There was no doubt about it now… he was in trouble.

OoooO

"Okay, so… Am I just crazy… _again_… or is something seriously up with Stiles?"

"I dunno," Allison replied. She watched as Stiles avoided the lunchroom and walked further down the hallway until he was out of sight. Lydia sighed, but a quick shrug later and she was back to her phone, browsing the many social networking sites she frequented. Allison's mind, however, was still on Stiles.

He was late to class once again and _everyone_ noticed how off he was. It wasn't just the circles beneath his eyes, but there was a strange edginess to every move he made… like a child waiting to be smacked. He was quieter than Allison even thought possible and responded to every concerned comment with a simple, "I'm just getting over a cold". Allison had managed to snag Scott's gaze for a moment, but the werewolf could only shrug in response.

"Maybe Scott has figured something out since then," she offered.

Lydia looked down the hall that Stiles disappeared down and shrugged yet again. "Maybe it really _is_ a cold," she replied. "In any case, my dream stalker isn't here… so I highly suggest we tell Scott and the others about this Clyde guy so that we can make sure he's not, y'know…"

"You're right," Allison commented. "I haven't seen him all day… And you said he didn't show up in your dreams last night?"

A grateful expression formed on Lydia's face. "I still can't believe you stayed up with me all night… I'll pay you back by trashing those threadbare _things_ you call sneakers…. I think you need pumps. Yes, pumps." She nodded to herself and took a seat at their usual table.

"Pumps?" Isaac asked as he took a seat across from her.

"Shoes… Her reward for valiantly protecting my sacred beauty sleep from bad guys," Lydia explained.

"…what?"

Allison leaned forward. "It's the new guy… Clyde Duke."

"What about him?" Scott asked absentmindedly. He gave the room a once over, but soon returned his attention to Allison; she knew he was preoccupied with Stiles' behavior, but it would have to wait for the moment.

"I'm pretty sure that he came into my dreams a few nights ago," Lydia replied, her voice low.

"You… dreamed about the new guy?" Scott asked.

"No, he showed up in my dreams. Totally different."

"I'm… confused…" Isaac admitted.

Allison looked around, making sure that she hadn't just missed that head of red hair by accident. "This isn't the first time Lydia has communicated with people in her dreams."

"…Peter," Scott stated.

"He looked… right… at me…" Lydia mumbled. "I know it's him… he just popped up in my dreams and told me about the bodies… that bodies would be everywhere…"

Scott's phone vibrated on the table, interrupting the conversation. "Derek…?" he wondered aloud before picking up the device. "What's up?"

Everyone was silent as Scott listened, their eyes all on him – save Isaac, who just used his heightened hearing to listen in on the conversation. He met Scott's darkened expression as the alpha hung up. "What is it?" Allison asked quietly.

Scott looked over at Lydia for a moment, then at the others. "I think those bodies are already starting to show up."

OoooO

"Hey, Dad… turns out I don't feel that good… So, I'm probably gonna go home… Call me back. Bye…" Stiles hung up and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

"If you just push the door open the sick room should be unlocked and you can go right in," the secretary instructed. "Just push the lock in behind you."

"Thanks," Stiles replied as he followed her instructions. Once inside the sick room, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped down the wall. The day had gone much worse than he anticipated. Not only had Scott and the others been giving him the most annoyingly concerned looks, but the pounding in his head and the burn in his neck seemed to get worse as the day progressed. His limbs and eyelids were heavy and his patience for the sideways glances had finally worn thin.

He forced his eyes open and peered around the dark room. Everything seemed to have tracers behind it, making it hard for him to focus. And then… there… out of the corner of his eye… a lock of golden hair…

He burst out of the sick room and breezed past the secretary, ignoring her bewildered expression. "On second thought, I'll sleep in my jeep."

"Mr. Stilinski-!"

The teen had already breezed past her and was hauling towards the parking lot. Without a second glance, he walked past the open doors to the cafeteria. He was certain he could feel several eyes watching him, but he ignored it. The last thing Stiles wanted to do was face Scott and the others… it had taken nearly everything in him to keep quiet about his little _issue_… He was actually rather surprised that Scott hadn't been able to sense his deception, but then again… his heart had been fluttering since he woke up that morning.

The cool air outside felt nice on his fevered skin, so much so that he didn't bother turning on his jeep to heat it up once inside. The silence and seclusion did, however, give his mind a bit of clarity. Stiles couldn't help but suddenly feel incredibly guilty. Keeping secrets was _not_ something Stiles enjoyed doing, especially to Scott. But, then again… He shook his head; Stiles was fairly certain that his conflicted feelings about his mother were no secret. Even if he never talked it. Ever.

"Damnit," he growled, flipping open his phone. He scrolled passed the several messages from Scott. They all said the same thing: 'r u okay' or 'text me' or 'call me when u can'. Stiles' guilt only worsened. Finally, realizing that there was no way to resolve this without cluing the crew in, he dialed Scott's number. It rang, but the busy tone also sounded. He waited patiently, though his nerve began to fade as it continued on. Eventually, he got to Scott's voicemail. "Hey, um…" Stiles paused a cleared his throat. "Sorry to take off today and… just… not being super conversational, I guess… Uh… Look, I just really need to tell you something, so… call me back…"

With that, he hung up and started his jeep.

OoooO

"Sheriff," called the dispatcher. She poked her head into Sheriff Stilinski's office. "Stiles is here." Surprised colored the sheriff's face, but he nodded and waited for his son to walk in. He was even more surprised to see Stiles in worse condition than he was that morning.

"Stiles, what on earth-"

The teen plopped down into a chair. "Hey, Dad. I called you, but you didn't answer… Sorry to just show up'n all…"

"Why didn't you go home, Stiles?"

His son was quite for only a moment, then shrugged. "I dunno," was his genius response. "Dad, can I just... wait here? I promise not to peak at case files or anything like that. I won't even snore."

Sheriff Stilinski quirked his eyebrow. "Really."

"Weellll, okay. I can't make any promises."

The sheriff sighed, but not in frustration. "Alright. I guess I _did_ say I'd ground you otherwise."

"See? Everybody wins!" Stiles replied. His father shook his head and went back to his paperwork. Stiles just quietly curled up in the chair. Within a few minutes, the sheriff looked up to see that Stiles had already fallen asleep. It was then that he got a good, unmasked look at his son; the circles beneath his eyes were quite prominent and his already pale skin was sickly. The sheriff decided then and there that Stiles just needed some strong cold medicine and a good night's rest. The kid was go, go, go with all the monster chasing… he knew that taking it easy for a day or two – which even included a day or two off of school – would be just what Stiles needed.

He also couldn't help but hope that Stiles hadn't caught some sort of supernatural cold.

OoooO

There was something nice and warm about the chair for some reason. Stiles really _really_ wanted to ignore the dull ring of his phone. However, it persisted. He sighed and simply continued to ignore it for the warmth of his chair.

_Wait… not a chair… his bed? Wasn't he at the police station…?_

_"Are you not gonna answer that?"_

Adrenaline poured into his veins as he shot straight out of bed. "NO!" He shouted, leaping towards the other side of the room. However, Daliah stood in front of his door with a smirk on her blood red lips.

"Oh, yes, darlin'. I thought I might come check on you. Your dear ole daddy was nice enough to drive you home… You look just adorable when you're passed out… Although you definitely did a pretty cute zombie walk from the car to your bed… Were you even awake?"

Stiles didn't respond. Instead, his hand slowly went up to the healing wound on his neck and he watched Daliah's every move with wide, unblinking eyes. Every muscle in his body was tense and the pounding in his head matched the rushing in his ears. More than anything, he wanted to call out to his father… but the predatory look in Daliah's eyes and the brute strength that he knew was hidden behind her curvy frame reminded him that the sheriff didn't stand a chance. She took a step towards him; he backed away violently. "Y-you stay away from me…" he squeaked out.

Daliah pouted. "Aww, don't be like that!"

"You _bit_ me with your magical monster teeth and gave me what I can only describe as a hangover from hell… And you left me on the floor… Oh, not to mention you _killed one of my cousins and then drove the other insane_."

"I already explained to you that they did it to themselves, Stiles."

"No!" he growled, still pressing him back firmly against the wall. "I don't know what the hell you are and I don't care about your stupid secrets and sharp teeth… Just get out and leave me alone… I won't say anything, just _please_… Leave me alone!"

Daliah sighed. "Look, I know it's rough the first time, but it gets so much better! I promise… I'm here for you, Stiles… to take away all that pain you feel."

"Pain _you_ created," he growled.

"You say that," Daliah said as she took another step towards him. "But I don't see anyone else here. Looks like I'm the only one that cares enough to do more than send you a text. In fact… that's been pretty common throughout all your life, hasn't it?"

Stiles clenched his fists, though he couldn't deny that she'd hit a nerve. "I ignored them on purpose," he retorted.

An interesting expression flashed across Daliah's face… something akin to indignant. "…fine. So be it. Suffer here alone tonight. Let's see if your friends, your _family_ actually cares enough to see how poor, pathetic Stiles is." She rushed towards him, mouth open and teeth bared. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, expecting her to attack. However, nothing happened. When he opened them, he was alone once again.

OoooO

Scott and the others were silent as Derek finished his tale. "It just… vanished?" the alpha asked. Derek shrugged.

"I don't know how he did it, but he did. Just… up and disappeared…"

"Where's the sarcastic one?" Peter piped up. "He has an annoying knack for figuring out the supernatural…"

"I don't think he's feeling all that well," Lydia commented.

"Yeah, we'll just have to get him up to speed later," Scott replied. "More importantly… is this Clyde guy a threat?"

"He hasn't attacked anyone yet," Isaac stated.

"But he did show up with a dead body… A body he warned Lydia about via dream-invasion," Derek retorted. "And the fact that he had no scent… You really didn't notice?"

The alpha gave Derek a flat look. "How could I notice a lack of scent in a room full of hormonal teenagers?"

"…good point."

"I've never heard of something not having a scent before… Or being able to vanish into thin air… I don't even have a guess," Allison said quietly. "But… Lydia and I could check the bestiary for anything that fits."

"Please," the strawberry blonde exclaimed. "I love it when you just volunteer me for things. It's not like I have a life or anything."

"It's our best chance at keeping you safe," Scott replied. "He knew what we all were… there's a chance that he could be dangerous. And not to mention this… warning he keeps giving everyone."

"I'll ask the twins," Derek informed the others. "Maybe they heard something when they were traveling with the alpha pack."

Scott nodded. "Isaac and I will try to get Clyde alone… I'll see if I can't get a hold of Stiles, too. My guess is that the sheriff's department hasn't found a body yet, so we need to inform his dad as soon as possible."

Their tasks assigned, they went their separate ways.

OoooO

He had no idea what time it was, but Stiles was sure it had to be past three in the morning. He had tossed and turned ever since Daliah left, unable to sleep from fear, panic, pain, and the all-around ickiness that was permeating his mind. The she-devil's words had somehow snaked their way into his brain and refused to leave him be… Where _were_ his friends? Why did he feel so isolated? And why wouldn't the pounding in his head just stop!?

He squeezed his eyes shut and put his hands to his temples. No matter how hard he tried, thoughts of his friends ignoring his obvious pain, his father dragging him to the funeral and the subsequent events that occurred… Not to mention his cousins and their situation… and how no one felt the need to fully inform him of the gravity of the situation… it wasn't fair!

"Ugh, shut up!" he growled into his pillow, but it did nothing for him. A deep ache formed in his chest as all of his negative emotions bubbled to the surface, as if he simply couldn't stop himself from spiraling into them. His teeth clenched together painfully. He couldn't help but deduce that he was having a really bad panic attack.

_"Stiles, baby…"_

He couldn't even focus on Daliah voice as it wafted from the shadows of his room. In fact, he hadn't even the energy to run away from her. He felt his bed shift under her weight as she sat next to him. "…why me…" he whispered through his teeth.

"I told you, baby," she cooed, gently stroking his cheek with the back of her hand. "I could sense your pain… I only want to help…" As much as he hated to think it, her cold hand was soothing on his hot face. It had a strange… calming effect and he was finally able to stop clenching his teeth.

"What's happening to me…"

Slowly, the blonde monster lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "I've just shown you how hurt you really are, baby… And I just wanna make it better… Let me take it away again…"

Daliah slowly ran her fingers down Stiles' arm until they reached the edge of sleeve. After sitting up, she inched the sleeve of his hoodie down his arm until it was just past his elbow. He made no move to stop her, too exhausted and too blinded by misery to protest. A sly smile curved her lips and her eyes glowed red in the darkness.

She knew it.

And Stiles knew it.

Daliah was winning. With no more delay, she sunk her teeth into the crook of Stiles' arm and began to drain away his agony.

It hurt much less this time… and Stiles' couldn't help but sigh in relief as her strange venom circulated through his body and relaxed every clenched muscle within it. Bit by bit, the misery and pain he had been nearly crippled by only moments earlier melted away, replaced by the sweet, welcoming nothingness.

Daliah pulled away with a gasp. "There you go, darlin'," she murmured to Stiles. He barely registered her words, his mind already faraway. She stroked his cheek one more time. "Let me take it all away…"

She wrapped Stiles in her arms, both of them in a strange euphoria.

"Let me take it all…"

OoooO

I had a review say they couldn't see line breaks, even though I used the legit fanfiction document editing version… Are my little zeros any better?


	6. Suck Out The Poison

Hello! Sorry for this odd little disclaimer, here… just wanted to bring something to light! I dunno if y'all have been keeping up with the newest season of Teen Wolf, but… Kinda seems like my Stiles and the TV Stiles have a serious correlation… In any case, I mentioned earlier that I had thought of this entire story before Christmas (which is actually why I'm so good at foreshadowing XD) and I just wanna say that I'm not pulling my ideas from the show! Promise! They may be similar, but I promise they are not the same! Anyways… carry on.

OoooO

"I don't suppose you can… possibly free up your evening?" Aidan let his eyes wander shamelessly over Lydia's body.

She smirked. "I don't know if you noticed, but… we've kind of got a missing body on our hands."

"Well... the only body I'm missing is yours," Aidan replied. Lydia couldn't suppress the smile that touched her red lips.

"Hmph… Maybe later, big guy… Talk to Ethan and find us a body snatcher first… Then I'll think about it." With that, she whipped around, her air leaving a fresh scent in the air as she walked away. Aidan grinned and moved to chase her, but another sweet yet strange scent wafted through the hallway. He couldn't figure out what it was, but it was definitely sweet… syrupy, like honey. Or liquid sugar.

And just like that it was gone.

OoooO

"Scott!"

The alpha turned at the sound of his name and was pleasantly surprised to see Stiles jogging towards him. "Stiles! Man, you look… well, a lot better."

"Yeah, I finally managed to get some sleep last night. Holy hell, whoever invented Nyquil was a genius," he replied. "Oh! And, uh… sorry about missing all your calls and stuff… I was pretty much comatose until this morning."

"No worries, man," Scott said as he slapped a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "I'm just happy to see that you are indeed alive. Sans coma."

Stiles' smiled, but his expression quickly became serious. "So, tell me everything. I feel like I've missed half of a movie or something and there's only four minutes left for everything to get resolved."

"Well, a lot _has _happened, but basically… Lydia was visited by some dream dude, right? Well, turns out that our new classmate? Clyde Duke? He's the guy. Also, Derek found him standing over a corpse in the woods… and then they both vanished." He came to a stop. Stiles just stared at him expectantly. "…what?"

"That's it?" he asked. The teen sighed dramatically and wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. "Phew! I was genuinely concerned! I thought you were gonna tell me that you _hadn't _found any bodies or that Derek and his creepy uncle had moved away or that, y'know, nothing horrible had happened at all and that everything was just freaking fine."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Look, I know it's not very much information to go off of, but we can't ignore it… It's not just Lydia and her dreams about Clyde Duke… There's a body. And a potential threat to everyone here."

"Yeah, I usually associate bodies with a threat to my life," Stiles replied. Scott narrowed his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. Stiles looked warily at his best friend. "…that… was a strange look… what? Did I say something?"

The alpha chuckled. "No, no, it's just… good to have you back. You've seriously been a wet blanket the past couple of days… I was starting to get worried! It's good to have your endless sarcasm back, too."

"…I can't believe you just called me a wet blanket."

Scott shrugged. "I'm sure you can handle it." He slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Besides… we might've missed you a little bit…"

Stiles frowned. "Just a little, huh? That's what I've been reduced to? A little?" He sighed. "I knew it… there's someone else, isn't there…"

Scott let out a laugh as the two of them made their way towards first period. "Okay! Okay! If I promise that you're the only one in my life will you _please_ help us figure out what to do about Clyde Duke?"

"Promise!" Stiles replied.

"Good… because if his warnings about this mysterious 'she' are real… and she's responsible for the chewed up corpse that Derek found… we might be in some serious trouble."

Stiles almost stopped in his tracks. "Sh… she?" he asked, quickly trying to calm his heart rate.

"Yeah," Scott continued, "that's what Derek said. The corpse he found was bitten pretty badly by something venomous. At least, that's what Clyde told him. Who knows if he's reliable, but if he's really here to warn us, then I'd rather try talking to him first. The last thing we need is another killer running around, let alone two."

_No… it can't be related…_

He shook his head. It _had_ to be. The odds of _two_ she-devils running around and draining people were… well, in Beacon Hills, that didn't really prove to be an accurate statement. However, Stiles suddenly felt incredibly nervous and… guilty. He knew that he had to resolve the situation with Daliah, but he had hoped to do with without involving anyone else.

But… if she was responsible for this body…

"STILES."

The teen jumped as Scott waved a hand in his face. "Woah, zoned out for a second there."

"Yeah… You sure you're okay?" the alpha asked.

"Hey… what if this Clyde guy is really the one responsible for the body?" Stiles asked, ignoring the question. "Like… he was just finishing up chewing her head off in the wilderness when Derek found him so he had to cover his tracks? And even the Dark Crystal dream-fasting business… what if it's all just a countermeasure?"

Scott sighed. "Yeah, I've been considering that option myself…"

"So you can't just go in there unprepared… Do you even really have a game plan for confronting this guy?"

"Well," Scott said quietly, scratching his head. "No, not really. Like I said, I just wanna talk to him first. Isaac will be with me, so he won't be able to try anything. Allison and Lydia are looking through the bestiary… Allison's dad might be able to help, too. I'm hoping you could put your research skills to good use and see what you can find."

Stiles bowed dramatically to mask his inner panic. "Yes, my liege… Although, you're not really giving me much to go off of."

"I know, I know," Scott growled, running a hand through his hair. "It's annoying how little we know… Oh! But, Derek did say that Clyde mentioned venom."

"Venom?"

"Yeah, that the corpse smelled weird and Clyde said it was because whoever bit it had injected their venom into her… probably what killed her." He opened the door to their classroom and stepped inside, completely oblivious to the relief that Stiles was feeling.

_'Daliah didn't kill me… it can't be her… I'm… I'm safe...'_

Stiles shook his head, trying to shake the memory of Daliah from his mind and he followed Scott into class. There, sitting in the front seat, was the new kid. He gave Scott and Stiles a small nod and a smile as they walked in. Both boys noticed that he had a sickly look about him. Scott stopped at his desk. "After class…"

"Of course," Clyde replied in that strange accent of his. His voice was thicker than usual, as if he were being forced to speak through water.

The two boys just looked at each other a moment before they found their seats. "Anything?" Scott asked, leaning back towards Allison.

"Nothing so far," she whispered. A moment of silence passed between them. "Scott, if things don't go well, we don't know _anything_ about this guy or how to…"

"Allison, I'll be fine. Isaac will be with me," he replied. His words seemed to only worsen her expression; his darkened. Another silence – albeit more awkward – followed. The others just looked away.

Stiles hardly paid any attention. His mind was a torrent of thoughts and emotions as he contemplated his situation. Admittedly, the horrible pain in his head and chest had faded after Daliah's visit… and the darkness deep in his heart that had so horribly twisted his thoughts and emotions was seemingly gone as well. In essence, he had a darkness in him that was finally brought to light… and it seemed like Daliah had the only fix-all for it.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm his thoughts. Now was _not_ the time to think about Daliah, but he couldn't deny that there were some questions to be asked. _Maggie_… Reaching a small resolve, Stiles decided that the best way to get answers was through his cousin… it was either that, or ask the source herself.

OoooO

The sheriff sighed through his nose as he inspected the poor corpse. Whoever the woman had once been, there was nothing but a rotting, tattered, bloody mess left of her. The mottled color of what Sheriff Stilinski could only assume was her flesh emitted a fairly ripe odor, one he had to hold his breath against when he leaned in close to inspect the various bite wounds littering her body. A disgusting sight to behold.

"Look at these," he said, pointing to the bite wounds around her neck and collarbone. "They cover her, but… it doesn't make sense."

"What do you mean?" asked one of his deputies as she stepped closer. She wrinkled her nose at the stench.

"This bite here…" The Sheriff pointed to the large one on her neck; it was really the only discernable thing left to look at. "This has to be what killed her."

"You think the rest of these are just… wildlife?"

The sheriff frowned. "It definitely seems like someone tried to make it look like wildlife…" he mumbled. The deputy strained to hear him, but ended up walking away with a shrug.

"Certainly not the first time the critters around here have gone crazy," she commented. Sheriff Stilinski's eyes narrowed: she was right.

He knew that he had to get the corpse bagged up and to the coroner's office as soon as possible. Even if she wasn't identified, the sheriff knew of a few kids that might be able to do a special kind of identification on their own. One thing was absolutely certain to the sheriff; this was no wild animal attack. Unfortunately, for the sake of _not_ appearing totally insane, he had to keep his theory to himself.

OoooO

The students wasted no time in gathering their things to move on when the bell rang. Scott, Stiles, and Clyde moved slower than the rest. Allison and Lydia walked past the two boys with concerned expressions, but eventually left the classroom. Moments later, Isaac was at the door.

"Stiles," Scott began, but was silenced with a look from his best friend.

"Scott, I know you've got Captain Damaged Goods over there to have your back, but I'm not going anywhere, either. Besides… I'm _waaay_ too far behind to miss this. And your explanations suck."

"Gentlemen," said Clyde, startling the both of them with his sudden proximity. Up close, the both of them got a good look at just how sick the new student appeared to be. Clyde closed his eyes for a moment and swayed on his feet. "Not… not here…" With that, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed.

"Woah!" the teacher shouted from the front of the room. "What's going on!? Is everything alright? Mr. Duke?"

"We'll take him to the nurse's office," Isaac said as he slid by to help keep Clyde upright.

"Good idea… Thank you," the teacher replied. Isaac and Scott slowly limped out of the classroom with Clyde, Stiles following close behind.

"No, no, not the office," Clyde mumbled. He gently pushed himself away from the two werewolves. "Where… Where can we talk?"

The three boys looked at each a moment before Stiles spoke up. "This way. The locker-room should be empty."

They all followed his lead as Stiles lead them to the dark locker-room not too far away. As he suggested, it was empty. They all filed in and Clyde quickly separated himself from the group. The werewolves watched with morbid curiosity as he made his way to the showers and quickly wretched up whatever it was that was making him sick. A thick, black substance splatted on the floor before him.

"Oh… my god… that's nasty…" Stiles commented, looking away.

"What's wrong with him?" Isaac asked.

"And is it contagious?"

"Guys," Scott said shortly, walking over to Clyde's side. "Are… you okay?"

After a moment of gathering himself, the new student nodded and pushed himself upright. An odd black stain barely showed on the inside of his lips, like a kid who had eaten too much black licorice. "I'll be fine… It'll pass." He wiped his mouth, sighed, and continued. "It's just a side effect."

"Of what?" Scott asked.

Clyde leveled a strange gaze at him. "Look, I have to explain a couple things first." The other three boys waited patiently. "I'm sure Derek informed you about the body… And that I took it." No response. "Well, I couldn't very well just leave it somewhere for anyone to find. One giant bite in the throat is not really a common thing."

Stiles burst into laughter for a second, but was quickly silenced by him comrades. "Right… ahem… go ahead."

Clyde closed his eyes and leaned his head against the tiled wall. "I needed to disguise the corpse… I had to drain her of the poison that filled her body… which is why I am like this…"

It took a few seconds for what he implied to sink in. Once it did, three disgusted expressions quickly followed. "You… _sucked the venom out?_" Scott asked. Clyde nodded.

"Oh, my god… I'm… I'm gonna…" Stiles breathed out, but managed to regain him composure.

"It was the only way to hide her condition from the police," Clyde explained.

"Wait," Stiles said, stepping forward. "The police? They found the body?"

Clyde nodded. "Yes, this morning, I imagine. I tried to destroy it beyond repair, but… I cannot be sure of whether or not they can tell what the true cause of her death is."

"You mutilated the body of some poor girl you found in the woods?" Isaac asked. "And then left her there?"

"I had no choice!" Clyde said forcibly. "If suspicions arise… if she thinks she's being attacked…"

"Okay, stop there," Scott interrupted. "You and Derek and everyone else in this mess keeps talking about this 'she'… who is 'she'?"

"And, more importantly, _what_ is 'she'?" Stiles added.

"She is _maagrim_."

"…what?"

Clyde sighed in frustration. "This is why I said nothing to Derek. Maagrim are secretive and you know nothing about them!"

"So _tell us_," Scott pled. "We already have one body. Now you're here and giving out cryptic messages… what exactly are we fighting? Who ripped out the girl's throat? Why are you so afraid of her?"

_"I am NOT afraid!"_

Everyone was stunned into silence. When Clyde had spoken, his voice sounded layered, like a legion of demons had burst forth to make that statement. His eyes burned their amber-ish color, peering into the souls of each teenager in that room; both Scott and Isaac had their teeth bared and claws out, ready to fight.

The redhead finally relaxed. "I'm sorry, but it is not the maagrim I am afraid of… it is you."

Scott and Isaac looked at each other. "…us?"

Clyde nodded. "I'm not protecting her, I'm protecting myself."

Once again, silence fell between them. It was Stiles that spoke up this time. "Her poison… it didn't kill you."

"No," Clyde replied. "It can't."

"So you…"

"Yes… I am also maagrim." He sighed again, as if some serious weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "But we are not the same maagrim, she and I… and I am here to help you stop her. But… I can't trust you. Not yet…"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "But-"

"But," Clyde interrupted, "I _want_ to… I've been tracking this maagrim for a long time… and I don't think I can beat her alone. So, please… give me more time… She is very strong and I need to know if she's found her little… pet yet."

Stiles gulped loudly and ignored the looks the others gave him. "P… pet?" he asked. "That sounds… bad."

"It is," Clyde affirmed. "She is strong on her own… especially when she kills like this… but if she has a feeder to supply her with strength time and time again… then she will be virtually unstoppable."

"How to we find her feeder?" the alpha asked. Clyde shook his head.

"You don't… not yet, anyways. It's too soon to tell. If she only recently came to Beacon Hills, then the only clue we will have is the trail of bodies she leaves until her feeder is strong enough to sustain her all on their own." Clyde closed his eyes as another wave of nausea hit him. "But, even feeders do not last. Most die, after a time… that or go insane."

Stiles willed his body to be still and his heart to stop pounding. He desperately hoped that Isaac and Scott were too preoccupied with the stranger before them to bother with listening in to his muscle twitches.

"So… we find the feeder… we find the maagrim," Isaac surmised.

"You really can't tell us anything else?" Scott prodded. Clyde shook his blood red hair.

"No… I can't have you rushing off into battle without my help… and as you can see," he waved a hand over his torso, "I'm not in combat condition."

"But, there're more of us. More werewolves," Isaac argued.

"And she'll tear you apart. She _and_ her pet."

Scott's eyes narrowed. "So what do you expect us to do? Just wait?"

"No," Clyde replied. "And yes. It shouldn't be long before the feeder surfaces… Try to sniff the poor soul out… Before it's too late and there's no turning back." He took a step towards the door. "I should be better before then… and we can try to take her out together."

He stepped past Scott, but the alpha gripped his arm to stop him. "…how can we trust you?" he asked. He paused and took a deep breath. "How can we find this feeder _or_ the maagrim if neither of you have a scent?"

"The feeder will, when it's time," Clyde replied, jerking his arm away. "When they stop fighting her… when they succumb to her… they will smell sweet, like honey."

OoooO

"That sounds… disturbing," Allison stated as they walked quietly through the halls. Scott looked around to make sure no one was listening. They were alone. Except for-

"It was," Isaac piped in, wedging himself between them. "But I still don't see why you let him afterwards."

"I agree. From the sounds of it, he only made things more complicated," Allison added.

Ignoring the discomfort he suddenly felt with Isaac and Allison, Scott smirked. "True… but he doesn't know one thing."

Allison and Isaac looked at each other before asking, "What?" in unison.

"We have Deaton."

"You think he knows what these things are?" Isaac asked. "I mean, sure, he seems on the level with most things, but-"

"He's pretty much our last shot," the alpha replied with a sigh. "If he doesn't know what they are… or what they're capable of… Then I don't know. I guess we're stuck waiting like Clyde wants us to."

"No offense," Allison said sourly, "but I'd rather _not_ wait around for more bodies."

Scott nodded. "After school. We'll talk to him then."

OoooO

Stiles found himself more shaken than he'd like to admit after their encounter with Clyde Duke. His mind was reeling from what little information they had managed to glean from the guy and now he was left with even _more_ questions. What if Daliah _was_ the one killing people? What if he had to tell the others? And would they ever forgive him for keeping it a secret if he did? It was almost too much to handle.

However, he knew that before he jumped to conclusions about anything he had to do a little bit of research on his own. The teen already decided that he was going to hold out against his new tormentor; all he had done was refuse her and she had left. If he did the same thing, perhaps she would leave him be. And if she came back, he would just refuse her again. If Daliah really was this monster running around, ripping people's throats out, then wouldn't she have just done that to him? Sure, she threatened his father, but… in the end, she had just run off like a vain school girl when he told her 'no'.

It wasn't just refusal that Stiles had to do; even if she left and he was safe, he would have to squash down the awful emotional and physical pain that would follow… It was the reason for his weakness the first time… so if he just rode it out… He nodded to himself as he trekked down the hallway to the men's room.

Stiles had thought about it a long while and an idea finally occurred to him: Maggie. Obviously, she had been resisting Daliah's nasty sway and even nastier bite. In fact, she had even tried to warn Stiles about it. Obviously, she had been too late, but if he could go see her, talk to her, try to learn about Daliah and how to resist her… then he could tell the others when the time came and they could vanquish her. Or, if Stiles was lucky – which he never counted on – then perhaps Daliah would go away of her own accord.

Finally reaching his destination, Stiles dialed his aunt's number and patiently waited for her to answer.

_"Hello?"_ came her familiar voice through the receiver.

"Heeeey… Um, it's Stiles…"

_"Oh, Stiles! How are you?"_

"I'm fine," he replied, then quickly jumped into it. "I was calling about Maggie."

There was a pause, then, _"What about Maggie?"_

"I know that she was… having a rough time, to put it lightly… when we left… I was just hoping to talk to her. See if she's okay, y'know?"

The pause was longer this time. When his aunt's voice finally came through the receiver, it was strained and Stiles swore she was trying to hold back tears. He instantly regretted making the phone call. _"Stiles… Maggie's been hospitalized."_

"…what?"

_ "She tried… tried to kill herself. Twice. Th-the doctors said she's been doing drugs a-and… and she's been in the Caldwell Institution ever since…"_

Stiles' mouth gaped open. "I… I'm sorry. I had no idea…" He felt his eyes stinging slightly.

A choked sob came through. _"I-I… I can't talk about this right now, Stiles… I'm so sorry. I have to go…"_ A split second later, Stiles heard a click followed by a dial tone. Slowly, he lowered his phone and shoved it into his pocket.

He hadn't even known… He was so busy being wrapped up in his own issues, dealing with Daliah and ignoring everyone around him, that he had almost forgotten who was _really_ in trouble… A guilt he hadn't felt in a long while bubbled to the surface as he thought of his mother, his father, the pain he had caused the both of them, and now Maggie and Bastian… This poor, mutilated girl in the woods…

The warning bell rang. A sickening feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly unwilling to participate in school, Stiles slowly made his way towards his final class. He knew he'd have to buck up in order to convince Scott, who sat in front of him, that nothing was amiss, so he took a deep breath and shoved all of his negativity even further into that pit. It was surprisingly easy, but Stiles chalked it up to years of practice.

With a small grin on his face, to walked inside and plopped down behind his best friend. "Hey, man. Talk to Allison? Lydia?"

"We're going to Deaton's clinic after school. If anyone might know anything off the top of their head about these _maagrim_… it'd be him… Hey, you okay?"

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, why?"

Scott was silent a moment, staring at his friend, then shrugged. "Never mind. Thought I…" He shook his head. "Never mind. Coming to the clinic with us?"

"As much as I wanna learn _more_ about the horrible things that go bump in the night, sending me into a vicious spiral of anxiety and nightmares," Stiles commented, "I can't… I hafta run a couple errands for my dad after school… I owe him for being a sick bum all week." The lie just rolled off of his tongue without effort.

"I see," Scott replied. "Just call me when you're done and I'll fill you in… _if there's even anything to report_…" he added pessimistically.

"Well, Deaton's come through for us in the past… let's just hope his vast knowledge isn't limited to killer tree stumps and hairy teenagers."

The class went by uneventfully and the two teen parted ways soon after. Stiles watched as all of his friends took off in or on their respective vehicles, all headed towards the animal clinic for answers that Stiles was afraid he might already know. He, however, knew that he couldn't waste time worrying about them. He had his own mission to gain intel on the enemy… and it didn't involve running errands for his father.

Walking to his jeep and thinking up another lie to tell his father, Stiles mentally prepared himself for the long drive to Caldwell.


	7. The Substitute

O_O Y'all see that dark!Stiles business on the telly!? Holy. Crap. Again, my Stiles is dark, but I promise I'm going in a different direction. (Although, yesterday's episode was so emotionally disturbing that I seriously lost sleep over it and I haven't been able to go an hour without looking at dark!Stiles gifs on tumblr… nogitsune stiles is downright fuh-reaky… in a weirdly sexual way…)

OoooO

"Sorry, Dad… We really don't know much of anything, yet."

Stiles had run to the station to tell his father that he'd be out late – using Scott and everyone as a risky cover – only to find that his father had already developed some theories of his own on the newly discovered body. A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his pale hair. "That's too bad… But you _do _have a name? Maagrim?"

"It's more like the species," Stiles mused, "but, still… Clyde refuses to tell us anything about them other than the fact that they're dangerous… Which, y'know… doesn't really come as a shocker these days."

His father sighed again. "And you're telling me," he said, spreading out crime scene photos on his table, "that he's the one who did _this_?"

Stiles glanced at the pictures for a fraction of a second before averting his gaze. "Just the little ones… the superficial bites. The big one on the victim's throat is what did her in. At least, according to Clyde."

"Should we bring him in?" the sheriff asked. Stiles' heart skipped a beat at the thought of his father being along with one of those monsters, even if it was a benevolent one.

"No," he responded quickly. "We don't know enough yet to determine whether or not he might, y'know… rip your head off or something." He father made a strange face. "Sorry… just… overactive imagination and all…"

"So, you're suggesting we wait until Deaton gives us more information," his father commented more than asked. "…alright. Just let me know as soon as you do, okay? Even if this Clyde kid is trying to protect everyone, he destroyed a crime scene and the body of a defenseless young woman. He's got a ways to go before I trust him."

Stiles smirked. "You and me both."

"Be careful," Sheriff Stilinski added.

Stiles repeated the phrase, adding 'love you' to the end before departing the station. His car had already cooled down in the night air, so he let it warm up before taking off on his long journey. He tried to utilize the time by making some semblance of a game plan; he knew that he'd have to have a fairly decent excuse to see his cousin so late at night. In fact, they might not let him in at all. However, he had to try.

Nodding to himself, he pulled away from the station and started the journey to Caldwell Sanitarium.

OoooO

"It's getting dark so quickly," Allison commented as she and Lydia stepped out of her car. Both Scott and Isaac pulled up beside them and dismounted their bikes. "It's kind of eerie."

"Yeah, I think they call it… 'winter'…" Lydia commented. Allison rolled her eyes.

"I _mean_… there's something else, y'know? Like something is in the air… making it heavy…" Lydia stopped and looked up to the sky. "Don't you feel it?"

"I know what you mean," Isaac said after a moment. "Like when it's too quiet or too noisy. Just…"

"Uncomfortable," Scott finished.

They were all silent as Lydia fixated her gaze upon the dark clouds overhead. Everything around them was cast in a steely blue-grey light that seemed to sap the warmth from their bones. Even the werewolves shivered, despite their heightened tolerance. Only Lydia remained calm, seemingly transfixed by something above them. After a moment, she looked away and was surprised to see everyone staring at her. "…what?"

"Did you see something?" Scott asked. Lydia, however, just rolled her eyes and strolled into the clinic. The others looked at one another before following suit.

Deaton was at the counter to greet them. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you soon."

Isaac stepped forward. "Does that mean you know what's going on?" The vet just narrowed his eyes and looked at each of them separately, though not menacingly.

"Well… why don't you tell me what _you_ know, first? So we can make sure we're on the same page here."

"That's the _problem_," Scott replied. "We don't know a damn thing! You know about the body, right?"

Deaton nodded. "I read about it in the paper this morning. 'Mysterious Animal Attack'… it's why I figured I'd be getting a visit from you lot… However, that's the extent of my knowledge. So, if you'd be so kind." He opened the gate and led the crew into his back room where such secret meetings usually took place. Meanwhile, Scott tried to enlighten the emissary as best he could. Lydia, Allison, and Isaac piped in wherever he missed a detail.

Once the recounting was done, Deaton was silent with his eyes to the floor and a serious expression on his face. Scott looked back to the others once more before addressing him. "…Deaton?"

"You're _sure_ he said, 'maagrim'?" he asked, still keeping his gaze lowered.

"Does that mean something to you? Do you know what it is?" Isaac asked. Deaton pursed his lips as a frustrated look flickered across his face.

"If he really is maagrim… and so is the monster in the woods that killed that poor girl…" He looked up with a fierce gaze. "Then we're in some serious… serious trouble."

OoooO

Derek walked quietly through the darkening streets of Beacon Hills. Earlier, he felt a strange sensation fill his mind, as if something bad were about to happen, but it had already passed. However, not content to just let it slide, he took to patrolling the streets. It was a boring, tedious task of looking through alleys whilst avoiding suspicion, but someone had to do it. He walked past the veterinary clinic and noted the vehicles parked outside and lights on inside; obviously, whatever Deaton knew was enough to keep them there for more than a few minutes. He reminded himself to check with Scott as soon as it was over with.

Regardless of the desire to burst inside and immediately demand all the information the druid had, Derek continued on in an exemplary example of his newly-found patience. With Scott on the rise to alpha-dom, the Hale wolf was learning all about his new position as "no longer first in command". It was a humbling lesson, but he surprised himself with how well he was taking to it, which fueled his desire to become more involved in Scott's pack, to contribute, to be part of that _family_.

Perhaps that was why he was patrolling the streets at such a strange hour; he felt some strange desire to do _something_ to protect them, even if it wasn't anything direct. Just walking around the streets made him feel better… and perhaps he actually _would_ make a difference. Perhaps he could be a part of _saving someone's life_.

"Weighing thoughts?"

Derek came to a stop and sighed heavily through his nostrils as Peter emerged from the shadows. "Are you following me?"

"Oh, please," he uncle plead. "You really think I would waste my time following you during one of your… sulking walk-abouts?"

Derek leveled a flat gaze at the other.

"…okay, okay, so I'm following you. But it's for your own protection."

"My protection," Derek commented. "No offense, but I think I can handle an empty street by myself, thanks." He continued walking forward.

"You know what I mean, Derek," Peter growled, walking two paces behind him. Derek ignored him. "I know you sense it… the strange presence that's been… _flying_ overhead."

At this, Derek stopped. "…Flying?"

"Yes, Derek, flying." Peter stopped at Derek's side. "There's something here… and it's been riding the winds and the clouds… it's slipped right under – or, better yet, _over_ – our noses… And I don't know about you, but I'm not really cool with that."

Derek kept his gaze forward. "What do you want me to do about it? No one knows what it is… and even then, we've been told that it's dangerous… That we need to wait."

"Yeah, by one of the monsters themselves!" Peter growled. "Derek, this isn't the time to practice your humility… Since when did you take orders from foreigners who chewed on dead bodies? We need to sniff this creature out and crush it… before it has the opportunity to hunt one of _us_, next."

The brunette slowly turned to face his uncle. "…it scares you, doesn't it?" he asked. "Do you know something? Because if you do, then you best spit it out now before I cripple you and use you for bait."

Peter held back his anger. "_Yes, it scares me_…" he said tersely. "But only because we're waiting for _it_ to attack… and because it's escaped detection thus far. And, no. I don't know anything more."

As per usual, Derek wasn't entirely convinced. There was something Peter knew, but he wasn't really sure what it was. However, he let it pass. There was still too much to be learned before he could properly ascertain how to deal with whatever was tormenting people – ripping their throats out and such. He resolved to corner Peter about it later.

"Just try to keep quiet," he growled, continuing on his little patrol. It wasn't long, however, before the bug had worked its way in his ear; to an extent, Peter was right. Here they were, a bunch of powerful, supernatural creatures… waiting on the word of what very well may be their enemy. Derek shoved his hands in his pockets and the thought darkened his mind.

Behind him, Peter grinned.

OoooO

"How serious?" Scott asked, though he had a feeling he already had an idea.

"Very." Deaton moved away from the table to the safety of his medicine cabinet. He just stood there, staring at the labels as he gathered his thoughts. The others waited patiently. He sighed. "It's been a long, long time since I heard mention of maagrim… and even then it was just folk tales and whispers. I did a little research of my own, but they are a _rare_ species of supernatural."

"We couldn't find anything on them in the bestiary," Allison said quietly. Deaton shook his head.

"You won't find them in any bestiary because they are not _beasts_."

The room was silent for a time before Scott spoke up yet again. "What _are_ they?"

At long last, the emissary turned to face the others with a heavy expression. "They were once considered angels of mercy."

Isaac lifted his hand slightly. "…angles," he repeated.

"Yes, of mercy."

"No offence, but there was nothing merciful about what either of those two did to that corpse," he retorted. Deaton looked at the ground with a sad expression.

"It's no easy explanation, but I can do my best to help you understand these things."

Scott nodded. "Anything. Please."

At this, the vet decided to take a seat on one of the metal stools before launching into his tale. "These… maagrim have been around for as long as time has recorded. I can't recall their origins, but it goes far, far back to somewhere in old Europe… There were only a few… No one knows if they were created or mutated, cursed or blessed, but they traveled the lands with only one purpose: to ease the pain of those who suffered."

"Woah, wait…" Isaac stated. "That… seems all kinds of backwards. This thing almost ripped a girl's head off."

"Not exactly what I would call 'easing one's pain'," Lydia added.

"That's just it," Deaton continued. "The reason they are a terrifying species… They weren't always a force to be reckoned with; before, they would wander the lands like silent specters, drawn to the scent of mortals' pain. With a kiss, they could ease the pain of anyone, absorbing it, and set about an ease to whatever soul they had encountered, you can see, then… why they were often called angels of mercy."

Scott crossed his arms. "But…?"

"But," Deaton breathed out, "not everyone can graciously accept such gifts, nor can they give them… As you know, human suffering is endless… The people of those times were terribly troubled… their pain nearly intoxicating to the maagrim… Few of the creatures were able to prevent themselves from falling prey to it. The more suffering they alleviated…"

"…the more they wanted," Allison finished. Deaton nodded.

"Slowly, but surely, the entire race was twisted by their thirst. Very few remained true to their original 'cause', if that's what you would call it… They mutated into… some sort of perverted, vampiric version of their former selves. Their heavenly kiss was replaced with a vicious bite; their calming nature was replaced with a potent poison; their benevolent disposition switched with that of a predator… the more they feed on the suffering of those around them, the stronger they grow."

"So what's a 'feeder', then?" Scott asked.

Surprised by his question, Deaton narrowed his eyes. "Who taught you about the feeders?"

"Clyde Duke," Scott replied. "He said that's the main power source of the maagrim… that if they have one, they'll be unstoppable."

Deaton lowered his perplexed expression. "…yes. He's right… For the original maagrim, there were sometimes people who would seek them out – 'saints of suffering', they called themselves. People who were so drowning in their pain that they willing offered everything about themselves to the maagrim in an effort to ease it. It was a delicate process to alleviate the pain of someone so willing to die… more often than not, they were able to do it successfully. However, should one of the twisted maagrim get their hands on these 'saints'…" Deaton shook his head. "They would draw out the individual's pain for as long as possible… feeding and feeding off of it."

"And these saints are… feeders?" Scott asked.

Deaton shrugged. "Yes and no. How many people do you know are out there hunting nearly extinct mythological creatures?"

The alpha looked at the ground. "Good point."

"Exactly. When the saints vanished, the maagrim resorted to fighting each other, eventually killing each other off. At that point, no one knew of then. No one sought them out. What few maagrim were left resorted to sniffing out the most potent replacements they could find. These people, not intentionally being part of their menu, are usually subdued with that nasty venom I mentioned earlier. It temporarily relieves the pain of the feeder, while supplying the maagrim with power."

"Like a drug addict," Scott offered.

"Exactly. Only this isn't any ordinary high. The come down in nearly violent fashion. After a time, these people are reduced to a shell of their former selves, nothing but mere feeders for the corrupt maagrim. The more the maagrim leeches from their feeder, the more miserable the feeder becomes. It's the perfect storm. And endlessly sustainable food supply."

There was silence following Deaton's final statement. The druid let his words sink in as everyone contemplated the task at hand. Potentially, there was a very powerful threat hiding somewhere in Beacon Hills.

"What about the girl?" Isaac asked. "The one they found in the woods."

Deaton crossed his arms. "Maagrim are not faithful to their feeders by any means. And, more often than not, their venom kills. Their much like a werewolf in that sense." He peered at Scott and the others. "Whoever she chooses as her feeder must first survive her venom. Only then can they become her food source."

"Great," Isaac replied.

"It is, actually," Deaton said, standing. "If she's still feeding off of random people that means she possibly hasn't found her feeder yet… and that she's still weaker than she normally would be."

"We can still find her… _before_ she starts juicing up," Scott reasoned. Deaton placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Exactly," he replied.

"How long until she picks someone?" Allison asked.

Deaton sighed. "It's hard to say… My guess is that the reason she even came here was because she picked up on someone's pain… something strong enough to draw her here. I can't be sure, though."

"So… she's already picked someone?" Lydia asked. "Do you think that Clyde… that he picked _me_ as well?" The others gave a worried glance, but Deaton offered her a condoling smile.

"No, because it is with the bite that the mutated maagrim draw you in… if he truly wanted your pain, he'd have already attacked you. Honestly? I think this Clyde Duke might be your best chance at defeating this thing."

"But he refuses to tell us _anything_," Isaac complained.

"It's true," Scott added. "That's the reason we came to you in the first place… Clyde doesn't trust us, so I don't really feel like trusting him, either."

"A wise decision," Deaton commented, "but, being a maagrim himself, he's the best chance you have of finding out where this monster is hiding and how to defeat her before she kills anyone else… You have all the information, you just need to put it all together, Scott."

The alpha was silent a moment. "So… she's already chosen her feeder…"

"Find her feeder," Lydia whispered, "and you'll find her."

"Do you think you can sense them?" Scott asked the strawberry blonde. "Clyde mentioned the scent of honey, but I haven't smelled anything like that yet."

Lydia stared at the ground with wide eyes. "I… I don't know… I don't even know how I could help."

"Maagrim are essentially undead," Deaton said. "Think of them as a… more celestial form of a vampire. As they drain their feeder, they grow stronger. However, their feeder becomes more and more ill… not just physically, but mentally, emotionally. With your connection to death, I imagine you might have a better chance of finding them than the wolves. That's most likely why this Clyde Duke character contacted you first and foremost."

"…great. I suppose that means we have to talk to him again," she mumbled.

"If… _you_ would be so kind," Scott stated pointedly. Lydia stared at him.

"What!? All by myself!?" she squeaked out.

"Of course not!" the alpha replied. "But… we can't exactly be with you when you talk to him face to face… he doesn't trust us, but he trusts _you_… You're the best chance we have at getting him to talk."

"…great."

"I can be with you, if you like," Allison offered, but Lydia shook her head.

"No… Scott's right… If my best chance at getting him to help us is to talk to him alone, then I have to do it." She looked defiantly at the others. "I'm not afraid. I'm not weak. I'll do it." If Scott noticed her palpitating heart, he said nothing.

"Lydia will talk to Clyde," Scott stated. "Allison, have you thought about consulting your father? Or Gerard? As much as I hate to say it…"

Allison seemed visibly uncomfortable with the prospect of asking her grandfather for advice, but she said nothing of it. "I'll check with my dad and see what he has to say about it."

"Good. Isaac and I can work with Derek and Peter to try and track the maagrim and her potential feeder down."

"And what about Stiles?" Isaac asked.

Scott was silent a moment. As much as he hated to admit it, he had almost completely forgotten about his best friend. However, he knew that Stiles' brilliance and his father's detective skills were paramount to finding his monster. "I know that he and his father will be needing all of this information incase another body is found… Plus they make one hell of a detective force."

"Good," Deaton replied.

"Thank you for your help," Scott said as he turned to leave. "We'll let you know if we find anything."

"Wait!" Deaton said, gripping Scott's shoulder. When the alpha turned around he was met with yet another fierce expression. "I've only told you about their strengths… as for their weaknesses… they're unknown. You _must_ be careful… Don't strike until you know their weaknesses."

Scott nodded. "I promise."

OoooO

It was close to nine o'clock by the time Stiles made it to the Sanitarium in Caldwell. The mental hospital was brightly lit and a large, intimidating fence surrounded its exterior. All in all, it was a tall grey monolith that rose high into the night sky… anything but warm and welcoming. He felt a pang in his heart as he parked his jeep and made his way towards the giant building. There was an intercom at the gate, so he pressed the speaker button in an attempt to summon an attendant.

_"Caldwell Sanitarium, state the intent of your visit."_

"Uh, yeah, hi… Um… I was hoping I wasn't too late to visit my cousin? Maggie Mardeux? M-my name is Stiles Stilinski. I forgot to call in adv-"

_"One moment, please."_

Stiles waited impatiently, his skin starting to itch and his senses hyper alert. He hoped it was more due to the long car ride and not… because of _her_…

_"Come on in, Mr. Stilinski,"_ the voice on the intercom stated, the tone suddenly much more friendly. He felt his muscles relax slightly after the gates swung inward and two orderlies ushered him inside.

The Sanitarium wasn't any more welcoming on the inside, but the staff seemed pleasant enough. He was lead to plump lady at the front desk. "Ah, yes… Stiles Stilinski, I heard you say? Your cousin speaks of you from time to time…"

"How is she?" he asked quietly. The lady maintained her even, but sweet expression, though he didn't miss the smallest twitch in the corner of her mouth.

"She… has rough days," she finally replied. "Even though it is far past visiting hours, having someone see her will be good. Especially since it's you."

"Has no one come to see her?" Stiles asked in disbelief. The secretary said nothing as she filled out a small bit of paperwork. Finally, she handed him a small name tag.

"The orderly over there? James? He'll take you to her room," she instructed. Stiles didn't bother lingering for an answer. The sooner he got to Maggie, the better. So he followed to orderly down several long and winding corridors, through a myriad of locked doors and separate anterooms. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, they arrived before a large door.

"She's most likely awake," the orderly stated, "but her responses might not make sense. We have to keep her sedated and… restrained. So she doesn't hurt herself."

"…restrained," he whispered as the orderly opened the door.

It was dark inside. What little light there was, streaming in from the hallway or the small window nine feet up, filtered in through the billowing dust motes to cast an eerie shadow on the figure at the center of the room. When his eyes finally adjusted, Stiles couldn't stop the solitary tear that rolled down his pale cheek. The dull ache that he barely noticed forming in his chest gave a painful throb.

It was Maggie.

Her dark hair was stringy and matted to her head. Sure enough, she was hunched over in a wheelchair, strapped in with leather bindings on her wrists and ankles. The skin around them was red and raw from obvious struggle. "Maggie," he whispered.

Suddenly, the girl's head jerked up and her wild eyes met Stiles' own. "Stuh… Stiles? Oh, my god, is that you?" she whispered hoarsely. Stiles forced a smile and walked in to take a seat on the bed beside her.

"Yeah… yeah, it's me," he replied. He nodded to the orderly, who exited and closed the door behind him. "Hey, Mags…" She just stared at him, completely in shock that he was there.

"I can't believe you're here… You're here!" she whispered excitedly. Her skin looked like it was pulled too tight over her skull and where there was once a person, only flesh and bone remained… like a skeleton covered in nylon.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to see you… I had no idea…"

"No!" she interrupted, still seemingly excited. "No, this is good… You're with me, not _her_…" She looked at Stiles with a conflicted expression, but quickly continued. "Sorry, sorry, so sorry… You have no clue what I'm talking about… Nobody believes me… but that's good… You're safe… As long as you're… safe… Stiles?"

As she had rambled on, Stiles found it harder and harder to look her in the eyes; he knew _exactly_ what she was talking about. Unfortunately, he knew that he had to disappoint her… that he had to tell her that her burst of insanity was all his fault… all for naught… "I'm sorry," he whispered.

A moment of silence, then, "…no…"

Stile kept his gaze down. Instead of responding, he unconsciously brought up his hand to rub at the pain in his chest.

"…Stiles…"

No response, just an overwhelming guilt at all he had hidden from… from everyone.

"Stiles look at me," she said more strongly. Finally, Stiles looked up. Another sharp pain wrenched itself through his chest as he saw the devastated expression on her face, the tears in his cousin's eyes. "Stiles… it's okay," she replied. "It's not your fault… I should have warned you sooner…"

"It's not your fault," Stiles replied, his voice cracking. Maggie shook her head.

"No, it is… I didn't get to you soon enough… and now she has you, too…"

"But, I resisted her!" Stiles exclaimed. Maggie met his eyes again, but with an expression of renewed hope.

"You did?" she whispered. "Even… even _after_ she bit you?"

"Yes… just like you," he explained. Maggie looked away. "Mags, I _know_ that you were able to… and that Bastian wasn't… But I need to know _how. _Maggie, she's threatening to kill my father… I have to find a way to make her leave… Please, please show me how to do it. How to resist her," he plead. He even fell to his knees before her as he begged for advice.

"Stiles…" She shook her head. "I can't tell you that… you just have to resist on your own… You _have_ to."

"But I _can't_!" he whispered through his teeth. Maggie looked at him in confusion.

"But… you said…"

"I know," Stiles said, leaning backwards against the bed. "She… came back later that night…" He ran a hand through his hair and pulled back his sleeve to expose the still-red bite mark in the crook of his arm. "This is what you were hiding before… at your house… wasn't it?"

He heard the grating sound of her gasp. "Oh… Stiles…" she whispered.

"Please," he whispered again, the pain in his chest growing. He clutched at the fabric, his hood falling back to reveal the still-fading bite mark on his neck. Maggie stared with large eyes and finally took in how haggard Stiles looked. Even as he had only sat with her a short while, his breathing became slightly more ragged, his movements more jerky… "I don't know why," he continued, "but it's like… a hot iron in being shoved through my chest from the inside out…"

"That's what she does," Maggie said flatly. He looked up to see the blank expression on her face. "She amplifies every pain you ever felt… and the only thing that makes it go away… is her… And, Stiles?" she said, turning to face him. "We have a _lot_ of pain in our family."

"But… how do I stop her?"

Again, Maggie looked away from him. "No… I can't… I can't say."

"Why!?" Stiles exclaimed.

"Because!" his cousin retorted. "It killed my cousin and it almost killed me!"

They were both quiet for a moment after that. Stiles tried desperately to connect the dots, but the ache in his chest and ever-growing fogginess in his mind was making it more and more difficult. He just pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to focus his mind. Suddenly, something occurred to him. "…Maggie… why did you try to kill yourself?"

"…you know about that…" It was more a statement than a question.

"Why?" he asked again, irritation working its way to the forefront of his emotions. "You could resist her and, yet… you still tried to kill yourself… Why!? How did you refuse her bite!?"

"I FOUND A SUBSTITUE!"

Stiles stared at his cousin as she shook in her restraints. "A substitute…"

"Yes, alright!? Bastian and I knew we had to find some way to deny her… but her power over us was too strong… we had to find something else so that we didn't cave to her temptations… If you take away the power she has over you, you're useless to her… But, by then you are immune to the deadly effects of her venom. She either has to kill you or move on… And it's easier for her to run when she's weak… Refusing her weakens her… and that's what we tried to do."

Stiles looked at his shaking hands, not liking a single bit of what she was telling him. "…but?"

"But it didn't work… It worked for me, for a time, but Bastian… Bastian was so badly poisoned that he started _both_… And it killed him."

"It almost killed _you_, too," Stiles commented. Maggie just sighed.

"It was a better alternative than becoming her _slave_…" She sighed. "I just… couldn't take the pain anymore… and… my brother had just died…"

"…I'm sorry…"

"Stiles, forget about me," she growled. "You're the one that needs to stop her from controlling you… She's fixated on _you_ now…"

Stiles crossed his arms over his knees, hugging them to his chest. "I don't… I don't know if I can…"

"You have to try, Stiles," she said as firmly as she could, obviously reaching the end of her limit for the day. However, she wasn't the only one. She glanced back at Stiles to see him rocking back and forth ever so slightly. His hands were shaking almost violently and his breathing shallow. "Stiles… stay with me…"

"I'm f-fine," he growled through his teeth. "I just… hurts… more than I thought."

There were softs steps outside of Maggie's room. After a moment, the door opened and the orderly from earlier stepped in with a small tray and a set of keys. "Good evening, Maggie… Time for your last meds for the day," he said pleasantly. Maggie looked back and forth between the orderly and her struggling cousin, thinking quickly. "By the way, I'll have to ask you to leave here soon, Mr. Stilinski… Visiting hours are long over with and-"

"Please!" she suddenly spoke, surprising both Stiles and the orderly. "Please… just a little while longer…"

The orderly smiled. "I think I can swing a few more minutes," he said, unbinding one of her straps, "if you promise to take your meds and go to sleep… with as relaxed as you're being tonight, I think we can take these both off." He undid her other strap. Maggie rubbed her wrists with a small grimace.

"Thanks," she said, grabbing the pill cup from him. She knocked back the small pills and took a swig from another small cup of water.

"Just a few more minutes," the orderly repeated. "I'll be waiting right outside."

Maggie waited quietly for him to leave… and flew out of her chair to Stiles' side. "Here," she said, grabbing his hand and shoving something into it. It took a moment for his vision to clear, but once it did, Stiles realized that Maggie had pressed two small pills into his hand.

"Wha-"

"Just take them, Stiles."

"No!" he growled, trying to give them back.

"Stiles!" Maggie snapped as her level of frantic matched Stiles'. "You're hurting… and if you don't do this, you'll end up running out of the room, screaming Daliah's name…. _Take them, Stiles!_ They'll help, at least just to tide you over… Please… it's the least I could do…"

Stiles stared at the pills. "But…"

"Stiles, please!" she plead, her voice still at a harsh whisper. "_Don't let her win._"

At those words, he could no longer resist. Stiles let out a quick breath and then threw back the pills with a single dry swallow. "…this better work," he mumbled as he tried to still his shaking body. It wasn't much longer before he felt Maggie's slender arms wrapping around his shoulders. Obviously, whatever medications _she_ had taken were already affecting her as a sudden, calm demeanor had taken over. She wasn't much warmer than he, but her touch seemed to help his tremors to subside.

"Shhh, just relax, Stiles," she cooed, stroking his hair. And, after a few moments, he did. Some sort warmth and numbness seeped into his mind and body. It wasn't on par with what Daliah could do, but it _did_ calm him… and it significantly lessened the pain in his chest.

"…woah…"

"Just breathe," she whispered as she rocked him gently back and forth. Stiles' eyes fluttered shut as the waves of complacency and numbness rolled over him. He finally connected the dots.

"…your… your substitute…" he whispered.

"Stiles, you _can't_, okay?" Maggie whispered. She grabbed his lolling head in her hands and attempted to look in his eyes. "Focus… You can't do that, okay!?"

"Okay, okay," he mumbled, more in an effort to get her to stop talking than anything. He tried to stand, but to no avail. "I can't… drive like this…" he half whispered.

Maggie mentally kicked herself; she hadn't thought of that. "Yes you can, Stiles," she said forcefully. "Here, stand up…" She was far weaker than he, but after a moment they managed to stand. Stiles swayed slightly.

"Please," he said as he rubbed his eyes. "Just… give me a second…"

"The orderly will be back soon!" his cousin retorted. "Get your bearings, lie in your jeep if you have to, and then leave… please…"

Even through the haze of whatever he had taken, Stiles knew exactly what she was worried about; if he stayed, there was always that chance that Daliah would follow his scent there… and if he was incapacitated, then Maggie just very well may be on the menu. "I know…" he whispered, rubbing his eyes one more time. "I know…"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be… I have answers, now," the teenage boy reasoned. He gave Maggie an awkward hug – perfect timing, as the orderly opened the door at that moment.

Stiles walked out without a second glance at his cousin. There was nothing left to do but try to make the long drive home… and somehow make a game plan from there. Already, walking around gave his head just the right amount of clarity he needed for the journey. And so, he climbed in his jeep and slowly drove away.

Once he combined whatever Scott and the others had learned with his own knowledge… then perhaps he would have the chance to destroy – or at least chase away – Daliah before she latched onto anyone else… It was a noble thought, but Stiles knew he would need the other's help to do it. Before he told them about his cousins and Daliah, though, he had to make sure that the monster had moved on completely. He didn't want any sort of connection with her…

…despite that, there was something deep, deep down that still wanted her bite.

OoooO

Holy 14 pages… Whoops. Guess I got a little carried away…


	8. Little Favors Left And Right

You all are my witnesses! I said it first!

OoooO

Stiles was less than ten minutes from his home when his cell rang. A quick glance told him it was Scott and, for a moment, he almost forgot why the alpha werewolf would be calling him. "Hey, man. How'd it go? I was just on my way to you… What took you so long?"

_"Me? It's like… almost 2 in the morning…. What have YOU been doing this whole time? I thought you'd meet us at Deaton's ages ago."_

Stiles sighed. He knew that he was stuck and that any excuse would just sound outrageous. It was good that he already spent the entire drive slowly coming to terms with the fact that he was going to need the others' help in dealing with Daliah. However, he hadn't planned on coming clean so soon. He still wanted the information that Scott had learned first. "It's a _really_ long story. Just tell me you have something."

Scott proceeded to fill Stiles in on everything Deaton had been able to tell them. With each passing word, Stiles felt the blood draining from his face. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself otherwise, he knew that he was completely and totally screwed. Scott ended his explanation as Stiles pulled into his driveway.

_ "Nobody has a single clue as to who the feeder might be, so keep an eye out,"_ Scott finished. Stiles sighed again.

"For once it'd be nice for Deaton to tell us that it was all a big misunderstanding," he mumbled. He turned off his jeep only to notice something peculiar: his father's patrol car was in the driveway, but the entire house was dark. Something seemed increasingly foreboding about it and a lump formed in Stiles' throat.

_"Hard to misunderstand a dead body,"_ Scott replied. Stiles didn't bother responding as he slowly crawled out of his jeep and towards the house. _"Stiles? You still there?"_

"Yeah, yeah," he whispered. "Look, I'll call you back in a minute, okay?"

_"Is everything okay? You sound-"_

"It's fine, Scott," Stiles snapped unintentionally. The teen closed his eyes a second before adding, "I'm sorry, man. It's been a long day… I just gotta… talk to my dad for a second." He turned the unlocked doorknob and stepped inside his black home. "I'll talk to you later…"

_"Stiles, wa-"_

He didn't bother keeping Scott on the line as he took tentative steps into his home; it was even worse inside. The blackness within seemed almost palpable and a tightness formed in his check that made it hard to breathe. All he could do was think of the horrible things that had happened while he was on his impromptu road trip… Daliah bursting in, surprising his father, her teeth gleaming in the night…

The knot in his stomach twisted and the tightness in his chest made it almost impossible to breathe. Stiles tried to call out to his father, but nothing more than a breath of air escaped his throat. With shaking hands, he woke up his cellphone and dialed his father. The light from the device burned in the dark, but it only seemed to make it more difficult to see. Eventually, he got it to his ear and listened to the seemingly deafening ring.

And it rang…

Despite not seeing a thing, Stiles felt as though the room was spinning.

And it rang…

His eyes began to water as his breath came in short gasps. _No, no…_ he thought, praying that Daliah had not done the unthinkable, that he was not responsible for his own father's untimely demise.

And it rang…

Stiles fell to his knees, no longer able to support himself on his trembling knees.

_"Hey, kiddo,"_ suddenly came his father's voice through the receiver. _"Sorry about that, my phone was under an evidence box… it's been an insane night… Tell me you have something."_

At first, Stiles couldn't reply. The relief that washed through him made tears fall from his eyes. His silence prompted a concerned response from his father, so he mustered up what breath he could to say, "D-dad… Where are you?" Stiles' voice was barely above a whisper.

_"It's… nothing good,"_ his father stated. He was quiet a moment – Stiles assumed he was walking away from whoever was within earshot – before continuing. _"About an hour ago, we got a call… more bodies with the same bite marks were discovered."_

Stiles swallowed loudly as the relief he felt before was quickly drained away. "…_bodies_?"

He heard his dad sigh into the receiver. _"Three of them,"_ he replied. _"Deputy Newman and I have been working with the forest service on digging them out of the brush… The kills look fresh, like they're less than a few hours old, but whoever did this went through a lot of trouble to hide them… They're also scouting the area just in case…"_ He paused as a muffled voice spoke to him. The sheriff responded and then continued. _"…in case there are more bodies."_

"More bodies…" Stiles whispered. Once again, the room was spinning and he found it hard to breathe. This time, the now-familiar pain in his chest had flared up, as well as yet another migraine.

"_Looks like Willis and Greene are headed back to the station to fill out missing-persons reports. I'll head back with them."_

"Yeah… okay…" Stiles whispered as he clawed at his chest. The pain was breaching unbearable and he was starting to feel claustrophobic in his darkened house…. He had to get out of there.

"_Did you learn anything that can help us?"_ his father prompted after a moment. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yeah," he said as calmly as he could. "Yeah, I'll… I'll just meet you at that station, okay?"

"_Alright,"_ the sheriff replied, though concern laced his voice. _"I'll see you soon, son."_

Stiles didn't even bother hanging up.

His phone slipped from his hands and his entire world seemed to move in slow motion as he stumbled up his stairs. Recalling what had saved him from his earlier temporary incapacitation, the teen could only think of one thing other than Daliah's bite that would help him… and like hell he was going to let her anywhere near him ever again. So, despite barely being able to keep his eyes open against the pain, he forced one foot in front of the other until he fumbled his way into his father's bathroom.

"Gnn!" A painful stab in his brain sent shivers down his spine as he flicked the bathroom light on. However, he pressed onward, flung the cupboard doors beneath the sink open, and began tearing through old toiletries. "Damnit," he growled, blinded by his goal. In his mind, he heard his cousin Maggie's voice warning him yet again.

'_Stiles… you can't…'_

"The hell I can't," he said as he finally discovered his prize.

In his slim, pale fingers was a small orange bottle addressed to his father. The label read 'oxycodone' and it was prescribed to the sheriff after the Nematon incident. Unfortunately, the Dark Druid that had been hiding out as his English teacher had busted two of his father's ribs when she snatched him away for sacrificial purposes. Luckily for Stiles, his father had only bothered with half of a pill before putting them away… Whiskey had always been his father's painkiller of choice, anyways.

Stiles just stared at the bottle for a moment as the rush of blood in his ears grew louder. His father hadn't even drank. He just… put the bottle away, forgetting about it as he busied himself with saving lives. And Stiles? What had he done when _he_ was in pain? He had been doing nothing but lie… and now he was stealing…

But… it was for the better… right? He had to resist Daliah… weaken her…

"_We found more bodies…"_

Those bodies… had they been his doing? In leaving town, had he forced Daliah to kill? The thought was so overwhelming that Stiles put his head to the ground and let out a small cry. _He truly was pathetic_.

Unable to bear the pain both mental and physical much longer, Stiles unscrewed the top of the bottle and grabbed two small pills. He took a moment to stare at them in his sweaty, shaking hand. "You won't win," he whispered, finally popping the pills. "I won't… let you… win."

OoooO

"And just what do you think charging in will do?" Scott asked, trying to hold back his frustration.

Derek crossed his arms and leveled his blue eyes with the alpha's. "You'd rather just sit here and wait on the word of someone you've never even spoken to before?" he asked.

"Since when did you listen to Peter," Isaac piped in from his leaning post across the room. Peter narrowed his eyes at the youth.

"Thanks," he growled.

"No offence," Isaac replied, "But your reputation isn't any more reliable than Clyde's."

"Oh, now I'm just hurt."

"Guys," Scott said tersely. "It doesn't matter what you say, Clyde is right about one thing: we're completely unprepared and we have no way of finding this thing or any clues on how to defeat it."

"That's what I've been trying to say," Peter said from the stairs in exasperation. "We're being kept in the dark."

Ethan and Aiden exchanged glances. "He's right," Ethan finally said. "We can't just sit here and wait for a potential threat to give us orders."

"But it's not just about waiting for orders," Aiden added. "It's the fact that this… maagrim is running around, killing people…"

"And then it gets stronger… and stronger… and stronger…" Peter said, standing, "And then we're totally unable to stop it."

Scott looked at the ground as his fellow wolves threw their logic at him. The more they spoke, the more he knew that they were right. However, it wasn't just the werewolves that had to deal with the maagrim. "And the police? And the other citizens that get involved? What if we fail? What if there's some key element in her defeat that we completely miss out on because we were too anxious for blood?"

The others were silent for a moment.

"And we still have to find the feeder," Isaac mentioned. Scott crossed his arm.

"There's too much we don't know yet," he said, looking Derek in the eyes.

The older werewolf stared right back before conceding. "…fine. The full moon is in a week. By then, she'll be strong enough to detect… And we'll be strong enough to take her on."

"Not if we can find her feeder first," Scott replied. "Lydia is going to get Clyde to open up, with our help… and the Argents might be able to help as well."

Peter sighed. "I like the plan without the screaming girl and the werewolf hunters…"

"Until the full moon, then?" Scott asked, willing to take any time he could get. "And… when the time comes… we'll help you."

Derek stared at Scott and the others for a moment. Finally, he stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Scott reached out to grab his friend's hand, but the sound of his cellphone ringing startled them all. With a confused expression, he grabbed his phone and checked the caller, thinking it might be Stiles. He was surprised yet again. "It's Allison."

"Maybe she found something," Isaac offered.

Scott answered the call. "Hey, please tell me you…" His sentence trailed off as all the werewolves listened in on the call. Human ears may have been able to hear the urgency in her voice, but the wolves in the room were able to make out almost every word. Finally, "…okay. I'll be there soon."

"Well," Peter said with a sarcastic tone. "This certainly changes things…"

OoooO

Everything around him seemed to move slowly; Stiles didn't mind it. The pain he had been in… permeating almost every inch of his mind and body… it was reduced to a _very_ manageable, dull ache. In fact, he had forgotten more than once that it was even there. The oxy had been an effective choice and performed beautifully. Not only had it managed to suppress the physical pains, but his emotional distress seemed to vanish entirely.

Even as he was pulling into the police station at a god awful hour of the morning with people rushing in and out of the building, the potentiality of several deaths being his fault, and that he was hiding so much from his friends… though these thoughts still itched at his subconscious, he was much more capable of pushing them back down. He didn't know if it was entirely the drugs or their coupling with years of suppressing anxiety after his mother's death… but it didn't matter. They worked. He was free of Daliah for the night, he just knew it… and that was all that mattered.

The fact that it was an ungodly hour made it easier to hide his apparent lethargy. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he walked in, the long hours finally taking their toll. "Stiles?" came the familiar voice of his father.

Stiles turned to face his father. He wasn't even sure how it was possible, but the sheriff looked even more haggard than he did. "Dad," the teen mumbled.

"Stiles… Thank god you're here… I could really use a hint at what we're dealing with here." He lead Stiles into his office. Before anyone else could catch his attention, the sheriff closed the door and locked it.

"How many bodies did you find?" Stiles asked quietly.

His father sighed and sat down at his desk before replying. "Thankfully, only three… they were in the same condition as the first body… one big tear at the throat followed by several smaller ones… it just doesn't make any sense to me… But, uh… I admit that I'm pretty new to all this."

"Just three…" Stiles repeated quietly. He stared at the empty space before him.

"They look like transients… No one's sure if they were local or passing through… Once again, the preliminary M.E. exam looks to be an animal attack."

"Yeah, if only," Stiles replied.

"I take it you got more solid information on what we're dealing with here?" his father asked, hopeful.

"Solid enough to work profile, as they say," Stiles replied. "Although, I just wanna say that the people's faith in animal attacks around these parts is unusually unshakeable."

Sheriff Stilinski smirked. "If they knew better, they might sing a different tune."

"Well, I can guarantee that this wasn't an animal attack… that none of these were… To put it simply, there's some sort of… hybrid-vampire-angel-demon-monster-thing running around, sucking the life out of people." His father stared at him without blinking. Due to his reduced state of self-control, Stiles couldn't help but laugh. "…sorry. It's, like... I-hate-myself-o'clock in the morning… I'm a little… sleep-loopy." _Sleep loopy?_ He chuckled again at his own explanation. Why on earth was everything so comical?

"Huh… a vampire…"

"Not, not a vampire," Stiles replied. "She's more like a vampire-like… thing?"

His father quirked an eyebrow. "She…?"

Stiles' heart gave a hard beat, but he recovered flawlessly and explained in detail everything that he could remember. Admittedly, his mind was so foggy and his limbs so heavy that he wasn't even making sense to himself anymore.

"Stiles… Stiles!" his father finally shouted. The teen stopped and looked up at the sheriff. To his surprise, that same, sad smile was on his father's face that he used to see when he had anxiety attacks. "You're beat. I didn't even understand that last part about feedings or feeders or… whatever else you said. I'll get the rest of the story from you tomorrow, so go home. Sleep. You have school in the morning."

He stood and walked past his son, only to stop in surprise at Stiles gripping his arm with surprising strength. "Wait," he said quietly. "…will you be here? All night?"

The sheriff sighed. "Most likely… I'll just crash in the back and catch a ride in the morning. It'll be fine, I just have a lot of work left to do."

"…can I stay here?"

Sheriff Stilinski blinked in surprise and gave his son a concerned look. "Here… Why?"

"Dad, just… can I?" he asked again, his expression even more hazed over. It was far too difficult for him to focus, let alone drive home. But, more than anything, he didn't want to be caught alone with Daliah. "I'll just sleep here on the couch. I'm small enough."

"…alright, that's fine," the sheriff replied, though his concerned expression didn't waver. Stiles just ignored it and curled up on the small sofa to the side of the room. It was possible the most uncomfortable thing on the planet, but he was asleep within seconds. Sheriff Stilinski returned within the minute to offer his son a blanket, only to find his jacket balled up under Stiles' head and the skinny boy in the fetal position. He sighed, throwing the blanket over the teen before leaving and closing the door behind him. Deep down, there was a small ping of discomfort, as if something were wrong with… something… But he ignored it. There was work to be done.

And so, he left his slumbering son and dove back into bloody waters.

OoooO

Scott almost took the door off of its hinges as he and Isaac burst into the Argent's home. "Allison!" he called out. He heard the soft thunder of her footsteps before he saw her.

"This way," she said, poking her head around the corner for only a split second before disappearing again. Isaac followed instantly, suddenly causing mixed feelings to well up inside the alpha… but he ignored them. There were more pressing matters at hand.

Allison had lead them to the bathroom. Even before the door opened, they werewolves were overwhelmed by the strangest scent… it was sickly sweet… with a hint of death. Allison shoved open the door to reveal the bloody mess that was Clyde Duke. Chris Argent was also there, haphazardly stitching up a large wound on Clyde's pale, bare chest. He cried out in pain, the sound surprisingly grating to the werewolves' ears.

"Wha…" Isaac began.

"I was hoping _you_ could tell me," Allison's father growled.

The situation seemed pretty dire; compared to the last time Scott and Isaac had seen the strange boy… he was fifty times worse now. Bruises and bite wounds covered his thin body. With every jerk and convulsion he made, a new wound peeked through a gash in his clothing. The most disturbing part, however, was that the profuse amount of blood everywhere… was solid black.

Clyde gave a gurgling cough and thick black liquid ran from the corners of his mouth. Allison covered her own at the sight.

"Someone better explain to me what the hell is going on and help me before this boy bleeds out on my bathroom floor," Argent said through clenched teeth.

Scott snapped out of it and dropped to his knees beside Clyde. "Hey… Clyde, look at me," he said gently. The alpha grabbed Clyde's trembling hand and drained away only a minute fraction of the pain he felt. Despite the miniscule amount he alleviated, it was enough for Clyde to slowly open his amber eyes and look at Scott.

"Sh… she's… killed again…" the pale boy spat out. "I tried t-to s-s-stop her…"

"Who did she kill?" Scott asked urgently.

"Who the hell is killing who!?" Argent demanded.

Allison came to her father's side. "Dad, please… I'll explain it all later."

Clyde coughed up more black blood, followed by a pained cry. Both Scott and Isaac flinched. The motion didn't go unnoticed. "I tried…" he whispered. "But… she's too… too strong…" Another cry of pain as Argent finished stitching. At this point, Clyde's eyes fluttered as he teetered on the verge of consciousness.

"No! Clyde, stay with us… Where is she!?"

"They were going to die anyways," Clyde whispered.

Scott felt a lump form in his throat. "Who?"

"The addicts, the victims… her prey…" Clyde coughed again. "I didn't… find her in time… and even though I… I chased her away… they were going to die anyways…"

Scott looked up at Allison, then to Isaac; they were all reaching the same conclusion. "Clyde… did you drain them?" No response, just Clyde's labored breathing. "Clyde! Did you finish them off!?"

"I needed to end their suffering! I needed to survive long enough to reach you!" the boy shouted back. At this final exertion, his eyes rolled back and he fell into Scott's arms.

The silence that followed was nearly overwhelming. It came as no surprise that Argent was the one to break it. Pointing to the unconscious boy, he said, "Explanation. NOW."

OoooO

"So he just… showed up like that?" Scott asked after Allison explained everything to her father. Argent had listened intently with his arms crossed and his eyes to the floor. Everyone could tell that he was wracking his brain for any clues of his own in regards to the maagrim.

Allison pointed to the trail of blood on the carpet. "Yeah, pretty much. He just kept telling me to call you here… for protection."

"He was afraid she would follow him here," Isaac concluded.

"Then why bother showing up at a teenager's home at all?" Allison asked. "If he was looking for a safe place to hide, a civilian home wouldn't have been my first choice."

"_But you're not really civilians, now are you?"_

Four heads turned to see a conscious and slightly less bloodied Clyde standing in the doorway to Argent's study. Scott kept his claws and teeth at bay, but Isaac didn't bother. Clyde just raised his eyebrows at the display.

"You're alive," Scott said, surprise coloring his voice.

Clyde 'tsked' and replied in his strange accent, "yes, thanks to Mr. Argent's steady stitching."

"Why did you come here?" Argent replied, cutting to the point.

"As I said… you Argents are _not_ civilians. Your family hasn't been 'civilian' for hundreds of years."

"No offense," Argent stated, "but being an expert on my family history isn't going to save you, pal. In fact, it _should_ have made you the other way."

"Sorry, but you were the closest thing to safety I had. I would've gladly run to the wolves first, but over half of them are plotting to capture, torture, and then most likely kill me," Clyde retorted.

Scott crossed his arms. "I already talked to them. I've managed to stall them until the full moon next week."

"How reassuring."

"We just extended your lifeline, man. The _least_ you could do is tell us _exactly_ what the hell is going on!" Isaac snapped.

Clyde was quiet a moment, looking between all their faces before finally saying, "I'm certain she's already chosen her feeder and has been draining them. It's the only explanation for how she could be this strong."

"So, that moves our timeline up a bit," Scott said quietly.

"True… and she's stronger, so she'll be difficult to defeat. However-"

"-she'll be easier to find," Argent piped in.

Clyde grinned, a macabre expression considering his appearance. "Exactly. Both she _and _her feeder will be more easily detected… All that's left to do is determine who the feeder is and use them to find her."

"You told Derek once that you knew who it might be…?" Scott asked.

Clyde shook his head. "It's more like an _idea_ of who it might be."

"Care to share?"

"She likes young men," Clyde began. "The more beautiful they are, the better, but that's not all." He paused to inspect the wound on his chest. "They have to possess a sadness that's potent enough to draw her to them."

Isaac leveled a flat stare at Clyde. "Soooo we have to find a pretty-boy-angsty kid? In high school? Thanks for narrowing it down."

"It's not just anyone," Clyde retorted. "The pain they feel has to be so deep-seated that she can leech off of it… indefinitely."

"Does this she-maagrim have a name?" Argent asked. Clyde shook his head.

"She was Atalya when I knew her… many, many centuries ago. She shed that name when she chose to abandon me."

"Wait," Scott said, a question burning in his eyes. "That reminds me… Ever since Deaton told us how the maagrim were formed, I've wanted to know… Why aren't you the same as her? It sounds like the mutation affected all of your kind."

Everyone was silent as Clyde fought within himself on whether or not to answer. Finally, "because we were once the same."

"You used to drain innocent, tormented people?" Allison asked. Clyde sighed.

"It was a very long time ago. I was reborn among my people as maagrim… a young man once dead from typhus, now an angel of mercy come to cure the Goths of their pain and strife."

"The Goths!?" Allison asked in disbelief.

"I told you, it was a long time ago. We were primitive and violent. Atalya and I were the Angels of Mercy they thought they needed."

Scott, along with everyone else, finally put the pieces together. "…she's the one that made you a maagrim."

"She made me a killer… something I'm sure everyone in this room can relate to," he growled. Silence. "Everyone assumed the Huns had pushed us to the borders of the Roman Empire, but it was Atalya and I… after she showed me how intoxicating using our gifts for evil can be. _We_ drove them apart and disintegrated their culture."

"So," Isaac said as he inched closer. It was obvious what was on his mind. "How exactly does this help your case?"

"Feeding off of human misery gives us power… do you really think I would have shown up like I did if that were the case with me?"

Isaac backed down slightly. "…good point."

"Then we need a list," Allison interject. "We need to find out who in our school might make a potential feeder. Morel might be able to help with that."

"Isaac and I can try to sniff out the feeder as well," Scott replied. He turned to Clyde. "You said that they would smell like her venom? Like… honey or something?"

"Yes, but… the fact that she killed so many tonight most likely means that the feeder is trying to resist her. It's good and bad for obvious reasons," Clyde grimly answered.

"Dad," Allison said, turning to her father. "We have to keep Clyde safe."

"…no. I won't have a mystery monster in my house."

"Dad, please!" she plead. "He's the only one with the knowhow on finding and killing this thing!"

Argent looked at all of the intense expressions directed at him. Finally, he sighed in defeat. "…fine. But we are gonna get nice and comfortable. Right here. With my .45."

OoooO

Despite sleeping on the cramped couch, Stiles didn't feel nearly as awful as he had anticipated. His father was gently shaking him awake, saying something about school. Stiles rubbed his eyes, noting the dull ache in his head and chest had returned. Thankfully, it was not yet in full force.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm up," he mumbled.

"We've got time to get home and have some breakfast," his father stated. Stiles stood, swaying slightly as he continued to rub his bleary eyes.

"Not hungry…" he mumbled again.

"Tough luck, kiddo. I _am_ and you're my ride home."

Stiles eventually nodded and lightly slapped his cheeks to wake himself up. They made it home where his father began fixing himself breakfast and Stiles made his way upstairs to his room. Every step made the pain behind his eyes throb, but he ignored it for the time being; he was too busy trying to spot any evidence of Daliah having been there in his absence.

He walked into his room and was relieved to see that everything seemed in order. He dropped onto his bed and closed his eyes to the morning light. Not only was his home undisturbed, but his plan to survive the night had gone off without a hitch… the oxy had worked. In fact, he was so relieved that he even mentally applauded himself for remembering to clean up the mess he made searching for it… as well as keeping it safe in the meantime. Only the tiniest hint of guilt pinged at his heart for the secrecy, the lies, the stealing… but he just couldn't find it in himself to care. Until…

"Stiles?"

"Mmm?" he said from his face-down position on the bed. His father remained in the doorway.

"Let me know if Scott hears anything about the bodies, alright? Even if I can't explain it to my deputies… I can't stay in the dark for much longer while something goes around killing people with reckless abandon… okay, son?"

Stiles was glad that his father couldn't see the horrified expression in his eyes. "…okay, Dad."

As soon as the sheriff left, Stiles looked at his phone for the first time since the day before – several missed calls and texts from Scott flashed at him. They all asked about the bodies, though one text mentioned something about Clyde and the Argents, then a few more about 'where the hell he was'… He found it impossible to read as his hands shook and pain blurred his vision.

Quick as lightning, the teen flew from his bed and began rigorously searching through his bag. "C'mon," he whispered, feeling the panic attack set in. "Damnit!" he cursed, but he was soon rewards for the fruits of his labor; he had finally discovered the carefully hidden bottle of oxy and forced two of the white favors down his throat. Stiles sat back against his bed and attempted to control his breathing until they took effect. He knew it wouldn't take long. "C'mon… c'mon…"

Finally, the numbness enveloped him and warmth seeped back into his frigid bones. He stood, though not without swaying dangerously for a minute. Eventually, however, he found his balance and slowly changed his clothes.

He wasn't worried about facing the others. In fact, he was _eager_ to help them, filled with a strangely renewed sense of determination. A nauseous feeling had overcome him, but he attributed it to popping two pills on an empty stomach. He shuddered for a moment, then made his way downstairs to munch on some toast. His father enjoyed the company and Stiles…

…Stiles was just happy to have an alternative tucked away in his bag. It didn't matter how wrong it was; he'd deal with that later. More than anything, he was ready to combine powers with Scott and the others.

He was ready to bring Daliah down.


	9. Honey

Hello! Sooo… did anyone else kinda think last night's episode was… weird? I dunno… Maybe it's just me. Also, this is a little shout-out to my reviewer Witchpencil… Please, oh please, review as much as you like! I love reviews and they always encourage writing… I only ever get a few reviewers, so it's always fun to get one that gives me such lengthy and awesome reviews. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE any review, even if it's just the small plea to 'write more'! But it's always fun to get one with a few sentences in it. I like feeling my readers' excitement.

OoooO

The world seemed to float past him; Stiles welcomed the numbness that surrounded him. He had survived the morning with his father, the two of them discussing the crime scene and potential leads, as well as how Scott and his pack might be able to help. They briefly discussed Clyde and the maagrim herself, but Stiles did his best to avoid talking about the subject in detail. He hadn't even noticed the time fly by until he was walking out to his car and bidding his father farewell… now he was wandering the halls as he made his way through the school and eventually to his first period class. He had yet to run into any of his usual crew, especially Scott.

"Stiles!"

He spoke too soon.

Stiles slowed to a stop as Scott ran towards him. "Stiles! Man, where have you been!?"

"Sorry, dude, it's been crazy on my end, too," Stiles began, halfheartedly defending himself.

"I've been _trying_ to get a hold of you since yesterday!"

"Dad and I have been going through ridiculous amounts of evidence… He found three bodies and it's been hell ever since!"

Scott frowned. "I thought so…"

"You're… not surprised?"

Scott then proceeded to explain the events that had transpired the night before; everything about Clyde and the bodies and how he had managed to talk the others into holding off until the full moon… Stiles listened with as much interest as he could muster. Admittedly, Scott was killing the high that was making his pain bearable. "But I don't get why you didn't call me immediately! I thought being on the level was practically all you cared about! There're people being found, torn to bits… and you just forgot?"

"Forgot?" Stiles asked, feeling something inside him snap. "_Forgot!?_" He wasn't sure what came over him, but Stiles felt all care for social acceptability fall away from him and he finally let the frustration he'd been hiding well up, over-flow, and bowl Scott over. "_Sorry_ if I've been a little distracted! I guess my cousin just died, I hardly _ever_ sleep, and my father has been waist deep in bodies sine this whole werewolf shit-storm hit us! Not to mention that my only other surviving cousin _just_attempted suicide and is now being hospitalized under intense care, further cutting off the only living ties I have with my mom…and _you _and _Allison_ and _everyone else_ are running around fighting evil while I'm stuck here in my totally mortal shell, waiting on your word while you hide behind some… potential bad guy with cheeto-hair!"

A few people had stopped in the hall to observe the rant, but a single dark look from Stiles sent them the other way. Scott just stared at his best friend, his mouth slightly agape. "Stiles… I didn't know… why didn't you say-"

"Why didn't you _ask_," he growled, shoving past him. Scott outstretched his hand, but Stiles was already several paces away. Admittedly, the werewolf was completely dumbfounded. He had _never_ been on the receiving end of what little rage Stiles had… and he had never seen it so… _vehement_ before. He had been so wrapped up in the ongoing investigation with the bodies and the maagrim that he had been more focused on _using_ Stiles than paying attention to how he was. Immediately, the guilt washed over him.

He had all but forgotten about Stiles' recent trip to his relatives' house and the loss that he had suffered… And he hadn't even considered attributing Stiles' recent checked-out attitude to further family problems. It was a terrible mistake that no best friend should do. He wanted to make up for it, but he wasn't quite sure how.

"You alright, man?" came Isaac's familiar voice. He clapped a hand on Scott's shoulder.

The alpha took a moment to respond, deciding that airing Stiles' family drama and emotional issues wasn't the best decision. "Yeah… yeah, let's go. I've got news from Stiles."

They continued on to class while Scott relayed what little information he gleaned from his best friend. He had already made a resolve; obviously, Stiles was pissed at him… and for a good reason, too. He'd give him some space for the time being, then do whatever he could to apologize.

OoooO

She wasn't sure how long she sat there and watched as fellow students walked past her into the high school. Lydia meant to go in a long time ago, but she feared that her composure would break… like it had a habit of doing when she was temporarily losing her sanity.

The young woman closed her eyes again, only for a second too long, and the images of her horrific nightmares flashed before her once more. Her nails dug into the soft rubber of her steering wheel cover as they ran rampant through her mind – dark, disturbing thoughts that did not belong to her. Most of them were filled only with flashes of blood and teeth, but a few of them showed her a glimpse of some place… a place she knew… a place she had been before… But it wasn't the images that scared her.

The paralyzing pain and fear that permeated these images _did_.

A sharp knock on her window startled her badly enough to elicit a small cry. "Lydia?" Allison mouthed through the window. Her face showed a surprising amount of concern. When Lydia looked into her review mirror, she realized that her face was streaked with tears. She quickly yet carefully wiped them away so as to not further smudge her makeup and then proceeded to exit her car as gracefully as possible.

"Are you alright?" Allison asked, slowly reaching out. The strawberry blonde shrugged away from her touch.

"I'm… I'm fine," she forced out. "Just had a rough night."

"Tell me about it," Allison said with a sigh. "You won't believe who showed up bloody and dying on my doorstep."

"The fact that anyone showing up at your doorstep, bloody and dying… is more believable than you think these days," Lydia replied as she stalked towards the school.

"It was Clyde."

Lydia stopped in her tracks. "…Clyde?" she asked quietly, not turning around.

Allison launched into the tale of how Clyde had nearly bled out on her bathroom floor. Lydia listened quietly, her eyes on the ground as her friend explained the entirety of their situation. "Basically… there isn't much time left to find the maagrim. Either she'll kill more people or she'll find her feeder."

"I need to talk to him," Lydia blurted out. Allison stared at her for a moment before replying.

"You _want_ to see him? I _did_ just tell you how he sucked the poison out of three different corpses…"

Lydia turned to her with a determined expression. "I need to see him… My dreams… I think he's messing with my dreams again."

"…is this why you had a rough night, Lydia?"

"Please, Allison. Just let me ask him why I keep dreaming about teeth, and fear, and… "

"How about _no_."

Both girls turned in surprise to see Ethan and Aiden standing behind them. Aiden took a step towards Lydia, his expression hard. "The last thing someone like you needs to do is go anywhere _near_ that guy."

"Excuse me?" Lydia asked with surprising venom. "A girl like me?"

"Your bond… with the dead… with creatures of our… _nature_…" Ethan began, but his brother interrupted him.

"We don't know what he might try, especially since he's gotten into your head in the past… and now he's in your head again? No… just let us go talk to him. We'll straighten it out."

Lydia stared at the twins – mostly Aiden – incredulously for a moment before her sleeplessness and irritability final got the better of her patience.

"Listen to me, _macho_," she said, poking a finger in Aiden's chest. "I'll have you know that I was running around with these lunatics since before _you two_ came around! And even _then_!? News flash, but you _both_ used to be the bad guys! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to class, all by myself… to study and learn, all by myself… then walk back to my car after school, all by myself… and then drive to the Argent's and _demand_ answers from my most recent tormentor… ALL. BY. MY. SELF."

With that, she turned on her heel and cat-walked into the school. Allison looked at the twins for a moment before turning and walking into the school as well. Ethan and Aiden just stared at each other.

Finally, Aiden let out a low growl.

"Women."

OoooO

The alpha werewolf set his lunch tray on the table and waited patiently for the rest of his crew, his _pack,_ to arrive. His mind was a muddle of mixed emotions; not only were his friends and family and the rest of the town under attack from a seriously bad guy – or girl, as it were – but Scott just pissed off one of those people… all through sheer ignorance.

He released a sigh as Isaac took a seat next to him. "Rough morning?" the beta asked, not really caring what the answer was. As a result, Scott didn't respond.

"I don't suppose you've been able to pick up on a feeder yet, have you?"

Isaac took a big bite of his burger and shook his head. "No… I've hung around every dark corner I could think of in between classes, but there're a _lot _of kids here." He took another bite and spoke around the food in his mouth. "Ish imposshibul t' tel."

"What is?" Allison asked, taking a seat across from them.

Scott folded his hands under his chin and sighed again. "It's going to take too long to try and find the feeder in this whole school."

"I think we might have a solution to that," Allison commented.

Isaac and Scott looked at each other, then the beta asked, "…what?"

"Me."

Everyone turned to watch as Lydia crossed her arm and looked at them intensely. "You?" Scott asked. "But…"

"You look terrible," Isaac blurted out. He shrugged at the scowls that followed. "Sorry, you just look… tired."

"Yeah, I suppose that would be the case when a monster keeps invading your dreams," Lydia replied as she sat down.

"Clyde's been in your dreams again?" Scott asked. Lydia sighed and rubbed her temples.

"It's like… every time I close my eyes I see blood and sense fear… and those _teeth_…" She stopped at everyone's bewildered expressions. "Well? You asked?"

"Do you think it has anything to do with the bodies they found?" Scott asked. His friends stared at him a moment before he realized that no one knew about the police. "Oh, right… Stiles told me that the police found the bodies… they were at the station all night."

"Where _is_ Stiles? I though he was supposed to get back to us?" Allison asked.

Immediately, Scott felt guilty all over again. Isaac gave him a sideways glance, but otherwise didn't react. "I think he's still trying to catch up on the school work he missed, so coach might have him now." It was a pathetic cover, but the others bought it.

"I suppose he knows what to do… to look out for… We're just stuck searching, then?" Allison asked.

"Just keep an eye out… Let Isaac or I know if you see anyone that fits the profile, okay?" Scott instructed. She nodded. "Lydia…?"

"Yes, oh, dear, prodigious leader?" she asked, not looking up from her makeup mirror.

"Let me go with you… to see Clyde. Just in case, alright?"

There was a moment of silence. Then, "…_fine_." Everyone at the table visible relaxed.

"Good. Glad we got that out of the way," Isaac commented. "Now, let's just hurry up and find the monster's bitch."

Their conversation carried on in much the same manner, but Scott let his mind wander to Stiles, suddenly making a connection: the maagrim was attracted to those of emotional despair… and that made him a potential target. His heart skipped a beat at the thought and a sudden panic washed through him.

Isaac slowed down, mid-sentence, noting Scott's sudden change in behavior. "…Scott?"

"It's nothing…" he mumbled, but he _knew_ he had to find Stiles and warn him… he just hoped that his dearest friend wasn't too mad to listen.

OoooO

It had been surprisingly easy to avoid his friends for the day. No matter if they were only a foot away before he noticed them, he was able to vanish right back into the crowd. More than once he had spotted Scott peeking through the throng of students in an attempt to locate him – most likely to apologize… But Stiles was still able to disappear.

He contributed part of it to how little like himself he seemed. He didn't walk, talk, even feel the same, so it would almost be impossible for the wolves to pick him up on vibes and posture alone. That _and_ he really didn't _care_ to be found. The painkillers had waned until he no longer felt them, making way for the pain to resurface… and _boy_ was it resurfacing.

Each step was worse than the next. He couldn't even muster the energy to make it to his final class for the day. In his previous classes, his friends were finally able to pick up on the fact that he was ignoring them all… especially Scott. However, they let him be and he was thankful for it… But it wasn't going to make the rest of the day any easier.

So, sparing not another second, Stiles slipped through a group of students and into the men's restroom. Thankfully, it was unoccupied. A few moments later, the bell rang. Stiles was in a stall, his bag open, and pills in his hand before it stopped ringing. After swallowing them and waiting yet another handful of moments, the ringing in his head stopped as well.

"…" Admittedly, Stiles knew that this wasn't going to work forever. As he sat on the floor of the bathroom stall, all he could think as numbness fell over him was that he couldn't hide from his friends _or_ his father, not like this and not for very long. They truly had no choice but to find Daliah – to find that she-devil that had killed his cousin and was trying to kill him… It was time to talk.

A slight weightlessness filled him as he came to that resolve, though he couldn't deny that it might just be the drugs. However, Stiles was ready to confront the others about what had been happening since before he come home from his relatives' house, that the bodies were a result of his own stupidity, that Daliah was taunting him even now… He was sure the guilt would hit him later, but not now. Now, he just wanted to ride that euphoria a little while longer…

He stood... only to sway as dizziness overtook him. "Woah…" he whispered. As much as he hated to admit it, Stiles couldn't talk to his friends in his current state. Whether or not they were going to be furious about Daliah, Stiles was sure that this would only worsen that fury. "I need to sleep it off…" he mumbled.

With that, he decided to skip his last class and head home for a power nap. His father wouldn't show up too much later and he could tell him, then Scott and the others about his ordeal. Again, he felt relieved to finally be rid of his burden. He didn't even bother fetching his homework, instead opting to drive straight home to the comfort of his living room couch… where the sounds of his father coming home not two hours later would wake him – before nightfall – and all would be resolved.

OoooO

"He left early _again_?" Allison asked. Scott didn't reply. "Scott… is everything okay with you two?"

"…I don't know," he finally answered. At that point, Lydia stepped in to save him from talking about it.

"Sooo… are you _all_ coming with me?" she asked. Scott and Allison glanced back to see that Lydia was not only accompanied by Isaac, but also by the Twins.

"…looks like," Aiden said, putting his helmet on. Both Lydia and Ethan sighed heavily, but no argument was made against him. Instead, they all drove off to the Argent house in a nearly comical procession. They lived not too far from the school, so it didn't take long.

Clyde didn't seem too surprised to see them all gathering before him in Argent's study. "Quite the 'get well group' you've assembled here," he said, the words lilting in that odd accent of his.

"Why are you in my dreams again?" Lydia asked, stepping forward to get straight to the point. Clyde blinked at her sudden interjection, but sighed quietly in resignation.

"I was just… sharing information."

"You really think that filling my dreams with fear and violence is going to make me feel better?" Lydia asked sarcastically. Clyde narrowed his eyes. Scott glanced at the other wolves with him, but they remained calm.

"I pick up things from her sometimes… I thought that you would share what you saw with the others. With _me_. That you would see something I didn't."

"How about you just _tell_ us what you know and what you want!?" Lydia finally exclaimed. Everyone else fell silent. It was the same question, the same problem that had come up since the moment Clyde came into their lives. His secrecy had been a minor issue before, but now that he was tapping into Lydia's brain yet again, there was no avoiding it. And Clyde knew it. The others sensed his seeming defeat.

"You're right," he conceded. "I'm sorry for the secrets… I was only trying to protect myself. I didn't… I didn't want you to…"

"To what?!"

"I DID NOT WANT YOU TO KILL HER FIRST!"

Again, silence filled the room. The motive was finally clear to Scott and the others.

Clyde spoke, quietly this time. "I wanted to kill her… to be the one to end her life for all the life she's destroyed around her… _including mine_. She made me this… killer… and I had no say in the matter." He stopped to glance at the werewolves, lingering on Scott. "I'm sure you can understand."

"But, because you were withholding all of this information," Allison said tersely, "people have been turning up dead… and some poor soul is out there, slowly being drained to death."

"It was a sacrifice I was willing to make," Clyde replied.

Scott felt anger flare up inside of him. "No more secrets. Ever again. You either help us, or we remove you from the equation," he stated. Surprised expressions colored everyone's faces, though none spoke out against his words. He was right; Clyde was causing more problems instead of helping them solve the big one at hand. He either changed his game up, or he had to get out of town.

Clyde lowered his head a moment, as if in contemplation. "….you're right." He raised his head, eyes glowing their strange amber color. "I think I'm strong enough now to help you… Tomorrow, I'll return to the school, we'll find the feeder, and we'll end this misery before it gets any worse than I've already allowed it to. Besides," he paused, looking directly at Lydia. "I think we could very much use your help."

Lydia blinked, obviously not liking the sound of that at all. "…how so?"

"If you allow these visions to continue," Clyde explained, "there's a chance you can figure out where the maagrim is hiding… It will be unpleasant, as your dreams will be riddled with horrible images, but… it could be of great use."

"…fine. I'll do it."

Allison stepped forward, gently laying her hand on Lydia's shoulder. "Are you sure…?"

Lydia nodded. "The sooner we kill this thing, the better, right? I didn't already endure countless sleepless nights for nothing."

OoooO

Fear pierced Stiles' mind as he awoke in darkness. Already disoriented from the sudden awakening, the fact that it was dark made it even worse. _How!?_ he screamed at himself. He had planned it perfectly… and his nap was only supposed to be a couple hours at the most… and his father was supposed to wake him… The blinking green light from his phone caught his eye and he slowly reached for it. The time read 9:15. _Damnit._

He flipped it open and listened to the voicemail from his father explaining that he'd be out late, catching up on the weekend's paperwork and such. Stiles' heart dropped into his feet. He was home alone. At night. In the dark. Without any means to defend himself.

Thinking quickly, the teen reached for his backpack. His head didn't even hurt, but he wanted every reason on the planet to refuse what he knew was coming for him. Unfortunately, he was too late.

"_Stiles…"_

He froze. Slowly emerging from the darkness, Stiles could barely make out the curvy shape that belonged to Daliah. Moonlight peeked through the curtains and a single beam revealed her blood-stained feet. "Stiles, it's been a long time."

He shook his head and closed his eyes as he attempted to put her sultry, southern voice out of his head. "No," he said. "I… I want nothing to do with you."

"I can tell," she said. Stiles could practically hear the smirk in her voice. "How _are_ those pills working out by the way?"

"Get out of my house," Stiles forced through his teeth.

"You know, pills are dangerous. I mean, sure, they helped you, but… They got three people killed the other night."

Stiles' heart seemed to stop in his chest. "The other night…"

"That's right," she cooed, taking a step closer. "Those bodies? Their blood? It's on your hands."

"…liar," he whispered.

"Stiles," she sighed, taking yet another step closer. "I'm not a monster… What you made me do to those people? I _don't_ want to do that… I only hunger for _you_."

"Please. Get. Out," he said again.

"If you had just been there for me, like how I've been easing _your_ pain…"

"I'll tell everyone," the teen suddenly stated. He kept his gaze to the ground, but managed to straighten up and square his shoulders. "I'll tell the wolves, the hunters… everyone."

"And I'll go on a violent warpath," Daliah replied. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as a stab of pain tore through them. "I don't want to, Stiles… but you're the only one strong enough to feed me… to _help_ me…"

Maybe it was the darkness. Maybe it was her voice. Maybe it was the comedown from the pills. Maybe it was everything all wrapped up in one. Or, maybe he was just weak. Pathetic. In any case, the walls seemed to collapse in on Stiles' resolve. There was _nothing_ he could do, now… He had let the misery progress to an unstoppable point; either he refuses her and let everyone around him die or he could just accept his fate and save innocent people.

Daliah knew she had him, too.

"I can make it easier," she whispered, stepping up to him. Gently, she touched his arm and a tingle ran across his skin. "I want to ease your pain, not make it worse…"

A tear fell down Stiles' cheek. She wiped it away, sending more shivers through the teen's body. Without saying another word, she grabbed his hand ever so tenderly and led him out of the living room and up the stairs. Stiles never made eye contact, but no matter how hard he tried, he just could not turn away. Eventually, they made it to his room where Daliah closed the door behind them. In an instant, her arms were around him.

"Just relax," she whispered. "Let me help you forget…"

She placed a gentle kiss upon the nape of his neck. A small sensation of weightlessness overcame Stiles as she did so again and again. "Relaaax," she whispered. He did.

And she took her bite.

OoooO

Scott sighed in frustration. A week since Clyde returned to school and the wolves had started putting in double time on finding the feeder and _nothing_. The trails of blood outside the school had tried up as well, though Scott couldn't say that was a bad thing. The lack of bodies only confirmed that the maagrim had found her feeder and was slowly gaining strength… and slowly killing whoever it was that was under her spell.

It was obvious that Clyde was weakening, day by day, though he had yet to show up like he did in previous weeks; sickly, near death… It was frustrating him, that much was obvious, but his cooperation was greatly welcomed. Even if they were getting nowhere, at least they could stop questioning Clyde as well as keep a closer eye on him.

Derek, Peter, and Deaton also had little luck locating the maagrim as well. Despite prowling the streets in shifts they had turned up empty. Altogether, they weren't making as much progress as they had hoped.

And, to add to it all, Stiles seemed to have all but vanished. Scott and the others, even Lydia, had called and texted the boy, tried to hunt him down at school, at home…but he was never to be found. After a while, Scott was able to deduce that his best friend was actually _avoiding_ them all. It was so unlike Stiles to distance himself during the midst of one of their supernatural investigations…

The bell rang and Scott packed up to leave class. As the week had progressed and he noticed Stiles' antisocial behavior, he began to notice something else, too. The other teen seemed sleepless, yet on high alert, as if someone might attack him at any moment. Then, at the drop of a class period, he'd be totally relaxed, almost out of it. The circles under his eyes and paleness of his skin troubled the werewolf and he couldn't help but think of the feeder they were so desperately trying to hunt down. "It can't be him," he whispered to himself as he left the classroom. "It's _never_ Stiles."

As if on cue, the students cleared the halls and Scott spotted his friend slowly trudging his way to math. Realizing that he may or may not have another opportunity, he ran to Stiles. "Wait!" he called out. "Stiles, please!"

The teen glanced backward for a split second, but continued onward. Scott growled quietly in frustration. Without caring if anyone saw him, he poured on the werewolf speed and managed to get around Stiles and slam him against the wall. "Jesus, what the hell, man!?" Stiles shouted in alarm. Scott just stared him down with glowing red eyes.

"No, _you_," he said, his voice low. "What the hell is up with you?"

"I dunno if you know this, but that's a _really_ vague question. Can I go, now? I'm late and you're giving me a compound fracture."

The alpha suddenly realized how hard he was holding Stiles' shoulder against the wall and released him. The other teen's shoulder slumped forward disjointedly. "Jesus! Let me see it… Stiles, I'm so sorry…"

"Don't worry about," Stiles grumbled. "It's probably just bruised."

"We should go to the nurse… I'm so sorry…"

"Please, just forget about it!" Stiles plead with his friend, but Scott wouldn't have it.

"Stiles, what is _wrong_ with you!?"

Deciding to ignore him, Stiles tried to walk away, but Scott barred him with an arm. "Scott…"

"Stiles, _please_… I'm sorry about your shoulder… just talk to me… what's wrong?"

"Just leave me alone!"

With a strength that did not match his ever-slight frame, Stiles shoved Scott back several feet and stalked off. Scott was too stunned to stop him.

In that moment, however, Scott caught it… a faint scent.

_Honey._


	10. Assume The Worst

Now THAT was an episode! I was really impressed with tonight's episode of Teen Wolf. Totes made up for last week's crappy filler… (Sorry! I was just so unimpressed!)

OoooO

Rain gently tapped against Stiles' window. Despite the early hour of the morning, the grey sky was surprisingly luminescent. It very well could have been an added effect of the toxins that coursed through his veins… That, or some beautiful concoction of nature. Either way, he stared at those clouds, eyes heavy-lidded, as a pair of tan arms snaked around his shirtless torso. They did little to cover the numerous bite marks on his chest.

"Oh, sweet boy," breathed a gentle, southern voice in his ear. Blonde hair tickled his back. "You're awake."

"Couldn't sleep," he said quietly.

"Aww… I could help you sleep, y'know?" she replied, gently tracing a long fingernail up his arm. Stiles barely registered the sensation, so lost in oblivion as he was. From the slight reflection on the window, he could see the dark circles under his eyes and the redness that hemmed the edges of his eyelids… the pale colors of his lips matching the pale color of his skin… He looked near death.

"I know," he mumbled, turning to her.

Daliah smiled and pulled Stiles' t-shirt off of herself. In the strange morning light, her body seemed to glow. "Come," she ordered.

It didn't take but a second for him to comply.

It was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic… but there was nothing else left. Stiles had resigned himself to his fate; _this_ was the lesser of two evils… At least this way, no one else was getting hurt. It was _contained_. Daliah was too strong to fight, so this was all that was left. He might have felt differently if the drugs and the venom wasn't clouding his mind, but it was and there was nothing he could to change that.

It was just too late for him.

OoooO

Sheriff Stilinski watched quietly as his son shambled down the stairs and into the kitchen. He looked halfheartedly into the fridge before closing it and meandering into the living room out of sight. The sheriff thought he heard his flop on the couch, only making him more late for school than he already was.

There was no denying it; something was wrong with his son. He tried to open up conversation with the boy, but each time he was met with little to no response. Unfortunately, as time progressed, Stiles only seemed to get worse. He hated jumping to any of the wrong conclusions, but it was more and more troubling. The teen was closing in on himself - he seemed almost vacant, dead in his eyes… It was down-right creepy.

For a second, Sheriff Stilinski considered calling someone, _anyone_, but… he honestly didn't know who to ask for help, or even what was wrong with his boy. Ever since their trip to Caldwell, something began to change in the boy that he couldn't figure out… but, regardless, it scared the hell out of him. The only option he had left was confrontation.

Realizing that this was as good a time as any, the sheriff walked into the living room to ask Stiles about his behavior; he was met with an empty house and the front door still slightly ajar.

OoooO

"Let me see that marker," Clyde said, gesturing towards the fat red sharpie. Derek tossed it to him and he X'd out one of the buildings they had searched the previous night. "That makes… this district done. All that's left are these two smaller ones; this area out by the preserve, and this area in the industrial zone."

The estranged maagrim and the Hale wolves had teamed up in an effort to sniff out the she-maagrim. Surprisingly enough, the three of them were able to quickly work through their differences and made an effective team… and that was even taking their empty searches into consideration. Clyde attributed it to the fact that even though they hadn't found the she-maagrim yet, they were still getting closer and closer.

"What did Argent say about this building here? Next to the station?" Peter asked. "I swear there was _something_ here during one of our patrols."

Derek shook his head. "He checked it out, but there was nothing. Hence, the 'x'."

Peter sighed and rolled his eyes. "This is… _really_ annoying."

"I told you that canvasing the area is slow progress," Clyde replied. "We'd be better off with our feeder…"

"Yeah, well, they haven't been too forthcoming on their location either," Peter snapped.

Clyde sighed. "Our best chance is leaving it to the others to track them," he said, though he didn't sound like he believed his own words. Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. "Wait!"

"…what?" Peter and Derek asked in unison.

"I just thought of something that might work…"

The Hales stared him a moment before Peter gestured wildly. "And!?"

"Well, I doubt that anyone here is going to like it much," Clyde replied.

"…of course not," Peter said in return.

Clyde crossed his arms. "I didn't say it was a _bad_ plan," he retorted. "It just might help us figure out who the feeder is and where they might be hiding the maagrim."

OoooO

He would never admit it, especially with how frustrated he was, but Scott kept his eyes glued to the door as third period began. Next to him, he could sense Isaac doing the same; he had informed the beta of the situation, of what he suspected… Isaac didn't believe him at first, which wasn't surprising, but he was able to convince his pack mate enough to get him on alert.

Stiles missing the first two periods only strengthened his case.

"How many days had he been this late?" Isaac asked quietly in disbelief. Scott sighed through his nose.

"A lot."

As if on cue, the classroom door swung open and Stiles stepped in. "Mr. Stilinski," the teacher said in an aggravated tone. "This is the last time I will warn you about your tardiness. Now sit down." Stiles seemed completely indifferent to her words as he took his seat.

Scott met Isaac's gaze; the beta mouthed 'wow'.

It was an accurate statement. Stiles looked terrible, pale skin and dark circles under his eyes… it was like looking at the living dead. Even the look in his eyes was dead.

"After class," Scott whispered, his heart pounding.

Isaac nodded. "After class."

OoooO

"It's a good idea and you know it," Clyde snapped.

"Are you kidding me!?" Derek growled. "You've already spent the past god knows how many weeks telling us about how dangerous even a _lick_ from your kind is and you wanna full on _bite_ her!?"

"As much as I hate to agree with our friend-turned-enemy-turned-friend-again… he's got a point. She would be most likely to survive the ordeal anyways," Peter piped in.

Derek glared at him. "You're _not. Helping._"

"I don't know why you care so much anyways," his uncle said with a shrug. "She's been quite useful in the past… and has helped us with this maagrim problem once already, if I remember correctly."

The other werewolf fell silent. It seemed like he was always the last one to agree to some horrible plan that usually went awry in some terrible way… Of course, he could've just been imagining that part. Regardless, Derek let a sigh escape him. "We will all need to be there… Just in case," he ordered.

Clyde nodded. "Of course." Something seemed to be troubling him, but said nothing… so the Hales let it be.

OoooO

The bell rang and every single one of those students was up on a flash. Such was the reaction after an incredibly long lecture class. Unfortunately, it made it all the easier for Stiles to slip out before the werewolves could reach him.

"Damnit!" Scott growled as he and Isaac nearly fell out of the classroom. The halls were in a flurry of students as they flocked to their next class. "Isaac! Do you see him!?"

The beta looked around for a while, but his lips were pursed. "No… No, I don't… But… Do you smell that?"

Scott took a moment to try and sort out the scents around them. It took a second, but sure enough… there it was.

Sickly sweet honey.

Stiles, however, was moving away from them as fast as he possibly could. He knew that Scott was going to try and corner him. There was no way in _hell_ he was going to face his best friend right now… not when the pounding in his head had resurfaced and the fever in his mind made it nearly impossible to concentrate.

He made it to the locker room in record time; if he was correct, there wasn't any gym during fourth period so that their coach could have a lunch break. Luckily, he was right.

"Hey," said an unfamiliar voice.

Surprised, Stiles whirled around to see a fellow student that had followed him into the locker room. "Um… Hi."

The student walked up to him, his movements jumpy and his eyes darting back and forth… as if he were hiding from someone. "So, uh…" He sniffed once and finally glanced up at Stiles. "So, what are you carrying?"

Stiles blinked, completely unaware of what this kid meant. "…what?"

"C'mon, man!" the other student growled, suddenly seeming hostile. "I can tell that you're on somethin', man… Just sell me a little somethin' and we're cool." He stepped uncomfortable close to Stiles.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. "Go away." He just wanted to dose, that was all… take a little oxy to tide him over until that evening. He attempted to step past the kid, but an arm barred his way. Stiles slid his gaze toward the student, his eyes dangerously dark.

"Give me the shit, man," the kid growled through his teeth.

Stiles shoved the kid away. "Get away from me!"

Apparently, this didn't go over too well with the other student; a fist came sailing towards Stiles' face.

It stopped, dead in the air, mere inches from Stiles' face.

The kid's eyes widened in surprise. Within them, Stiles could see his own eyes darkening. It was almost as if his pupils had expanded past his irises, almost completely swallowing up the white of his eyes. The other student must have seen it as well, for he backpedaled and quickly ran away. At last, Stiles was alone.

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding. With that exhale, every last bit of strength seemed to leave him. Without any further hesitation, Stiles dug through his bag and found his precious pills. He grabbed what he thought were two and popped them. As always, he prayed they would kick in as quickly as possible.

A heat flash overcame him and forced the air out of Stiles' lungs. In an attempt to cool down, he unzipped his sweater and pulled down his hood so as to press his cheek against the cold locker room wall. Since he was once again alone, he had no fears of anyone seeing the reddened bite marks that littered his body. Most were still hidden beneath his tee shirt, but marks in the crooks of his arms and neck were visible.

It wasn't until the grating sound of the locker room door opening echoed around in his head that Stiles realized just how long he had been sitting there. "Crap," he whispered to himself as he attempted to stand. When had he ended up on the floor? His mind was lost in the pill-induced haze… more-so than he anticipated. He _needed_ to get out of there.

"Stiles."

He had barely made it to his feet when a blurry Scott and who he presumed to be Isaac appeared around the corner.

Stiles shrugged on his jacket in just the nick of time, but was unable to hide the dizzied expression on his face, the sweat on his brow, or the unsteady way he gripped at the sink. "Hey…." He wiped at his nose and pulled his hood farther down. "Why are you here?"

Neither wolf responded. Stiles watched as they looked at each other for a moment before both of them closed their eyes and inhaled deeply. Scott finally opened his eyes. The pained expression within them would have normally killed Stiles, but he felt almost nothing.

"Stiles," Scott finally said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can smell the venom from here."

Silence filled the room before Stiles finally spoke. "…I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Stiles," Isaac said, his voice much more harsh. "You're that monster's feeder!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Stiles shouted back.

"People are _dead_ because of you!"

"People are _alive_ because of me!" the teen retorted. However, the strain took its toll and Stiles' knees buckled beneath him.

"Stiles!" Scott shouted, lunging forward. He managed to catch his best friend before he hit the ground. "Stiles! What's wrong!?"

"I think I know," Isaac growled. He shoved past the two and grabbed Stiles' backpack.

"No, please," Stiles mumbled as he tried to extricate himself from Scott's arms. "Please…"

Isaac ignored him and dumped the contents onto the locker room floor. A text book, random loose-leaf sheets of paper, and writing utensils fell out… followed by the click-clack of an orange pill bottle. "…just like I thought," Isaac mumbled. He bent down and picked up the bottle. "…oxy. Innocent, little, ole Stiles is faded on pain pills."

Stiles pushed away from Scott in an attempt to snag the pills from the other werewolf. However, Scott was infinitely stronger and jerked him backwards. "Stiles, are you kidding me!?" he growled.

"Let go on me!" Stiles shouted as he struggled against the alpha's hold. Scott did not relent. Stiles twisted away, but Scott wasn't going to let him escape. The other teen's thrashing became more frantic.

"Stiles, calm down!" Scott growled.

"I _told_ you, I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Yeah!?" Scott retorted, heartlessly releasing Stiles and sending his friend crashing to the floor. "Then explain the venom you wreak of! Explain the drugs in your god damn back pack…. EXPLAIN THIS!" With that, Scott reached out and jerked down Stiles' hood.

The red bite marks seemed to burn from the exposure.

"Jesus," Isaac whispered.

"I said… leave… me… ALONE!"

Stiles' voice boomed around them, echoing off of the walls. He seemed to _materialize_ before them, upright, his eyes once again darkened. Without warning, an unseen force slammed into the two werewolves and sent them crashing into the wall. Rubble fell around them as they collapsed to the floor, both of them stunned.

There was a moment of hesitation before Stiles grabbed the bottle of pills that had fell from Isaac's hand. "… I'm sorry," he whispered. Slowly, he picked up his belongings, shoved them into his bag, and made his way towards the exit. "…I'm sorry," he said again, "but… I'm the only one who can hold her off… it's the only way to save you… to save everyone."

With that, he left.

It wasn't much later that Scott and Isaac were able to regain their bearings and dust themselves off.

"What… the hell… was that…" Isaac said as he shook the powdered concrete from his hair.

Scott didn't have an answer for him. "We have to find him," he eventually replied. "Call Allison, I'll talk to Derek and the twins…"

"Scott-"

"Once we get everyone in the loop we can decide what to do."

"Scott!"

The alpha paused, but didn't look at the other werewolf. "…we can help him," he finally said.

Isaac sighed. "Scott, I don't… I mean… I've seen this, y'know? My dad and my brother…"

"We can help him!" Scott interrupted. "We know now… we can help him."

There was one last moment of silence before Isaac sighed quietly. "Yeah… I know. We'll help him."

OoooO

Sheriff Stilinski waited until the answering machine ended, followed by a light tone, before he began. "Hey, kiddo," he said with a sigh. It was tougher to leave the message than he thought. "Um… I just… I wanted us to talk… We've been busy, the both of us, and…"

His message was cut short by the sound of the front door opening. Alarmed at the early hour, the sheriff slowly leaned out of the kitchen. "…Stiles?" he called out.

"Dad…"

Relief flooded through the sheriff as he hung up the phone. "Stiles… it's only twelve-something… why are you home so… early…." His words fell short as took in the sight of his son. In short, he looked like _awful_.

"Dad… I don't… feel so good… I just need to sleep, okay?" He dropped his bag into the middle of the hallway, but had yet to move from the door.

"Is… that all? Stiles, you don't look so… Well, I was actually leaving you a message…"

"I got into a fight with Scott, if that's what you're looking for," he replied, his tone obviously sarcastic.

"Stiles, I wasn't looking for anything," his father replied. "I just… want to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine, Dad." Stiles finally walked past him. "It was just… a dumb fight and I don't feel well…"

"…alright, son. Go and rest," the sheriff finally replied. Stiles didn't acknowledge him as he walked on up the stars and out of sight. His father sighed and made towards the door. After seeing Stiles the way he was now… dejected, sickly, out of it… he knew that he couldn't afford to wait any longer.

_"Sheriff!"_

As if in answer to prayer, the sheriff was just about to close the door when a hand shot out to stop it. "Sheriff!" the voice said again, Stilinski finally recognizing it.

"Scott?" he asked, allowing the door to open and Scott McCall to practically tackle him.

"Is Stiles here!?" he asked, almost out of breath. The sheriff stepped back, but held out his hands to steady the alpha.

"Scott, Scott, calm down…" he replied. "Stiles is here, he's just upstairs sleeping. He said he wasn't feeling well…"

It wasn't hard to see that Scott's entire body screamed anger. The sheriff hoped he didn't come to their house with the intent to start anything, but that was mostly because he wasn't sure he'd be any match for the alpha werewolf. However, Scott stayed rooted and crossed his arms. "Yeah? And what else did he tell you?"

The sheriff scowled. "Look… if you boys got into an argument, it'll have to wait until tomorrow. Stiles hasn't been… at 100% the past few weeks. I think he's got the flu or something…"

"Yeah?" Scott asked. "You sure it's not a crippling addiction to pain killers?"

Both men were silent before Sheriff Stilinski finally whispered, "Excuse me?"

"The feeder that we've been looking for? It's Stiles. And he's been using _your_ old pain meds to deal with it, to hide it." The sheriff was dead silent this time. "Think about it!" Scott proffered. "He's been slipping… and we've been so wrapped up in trying to find the bad guy – _and_ her feeder – that we were completely ignorant of Stiles, and…"

"And his suffering…" the sheriff finished. Scott ran a hand over his face, obviously uncomfortable with the situation. The expression on the sheriff's face made it clear that he was having trouble digesting the information. However, he seemed to accept what little of it he could. "Stiles has been… _off_ ever since that trip to go to his cousin's funeral… I couldn't figure out what it was and I've been so damn busy…" He paused to look Scott directly in the eye. "You're sure about this? About Stiles being the… feeder… and about the… drugs…?" His voice cracked and already Scott could tell he was fighting back tears.

"I'm sure."

Without a word in response, the sheriff turned and bounded up the stairs. Scott was hot on his heels. Papa Stilinski didn't bother knocking as he yanked open Stiles' bedroom door.

They were met with an open window and an empty room.

OoooO

Allison had been conversing almost pleasantly in the hallway when the call came in. Lydia listened quietly, her eyes widening with each second until a tear fell down her face. "Lydia, what's wrong?" Allison asked for the tenth time. When no response came, she put both hands on her friend's shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Lydia, talk to me…"

Eventually, Lydia moved the phone from her ear and pushed the 'sleep' button atop the device. "It was from Scott," she said quietly. "Isaac was supposed to call you, but I guess you didn't get the message…"

"I haven't checked my phone since lunch… What's going on? Please, tell me! Is this about Clyde's plan? Did they change their minds?" she asked.

Lydia knew she was referring to an earlier call from Derek; once again, Peter threw her under the supernatural bus and Clyde wanted to make a feeder-detector out of her. He seemed to have concocted a new, more efficient method of doing it, but from the sounds of the conversation, the others didn't seem quite so convinced. Lydia and Allison were going to go to Derek's loft after school to try and hammer out the details of this more-than-likely horrible plan. The message both pertained to and was completely obstinate of the complications that faced them. "No... It's Stiles."

Allison stared at her friend for a moment. "Stiles? What's wrong with Stiles?"

"He's…" Lydia's voice caught in her throat and she had to pause a moment to regain her composure. "He's the one," she finally whispered. "He's the feeder."

"…no," Allison mumbled. "No, no, _no way_. How is that even possible?"

"I should have seen it," Lydia continued on in a whisper. "I knew he wasn't always… And with his mom… and how he's been acting… I should have known…"

"Lydia?" Allison asked, trying to gain her attention. "Lydia, where is Stiles now?"

She shook her head. "They don't know… Scott, Isaac, and Derek are all out looking for him… Clyde, the Twins, and Peter are waiting for us… at the loft."

"Then we need to go," Allison replied. She gently grabbed Lydia's hand and led her out of the halls of their school and into the parking lot. Though she appeared stoic, there was a shine in her eyes and a tightness in her jaw that betrayed just how worried she was. Stiles being the feeder presented an entirely new set of problems… Things that would require _all_ of their abilities to neutralize. It was a daunting task, but for Stiles' sake, her leadership qualities kicked in and she knew that she had to move quickly.

A few terrifying moments of speedy driving later and they arrived at the loft.

"Lydia," Aiden said, stepping forward as the two girls approached.

"No word?" Allison asked.

The Twins shook their heads. "Scott and the others are out there, but it's almost as if he vanished," Ethan replied. Allison let her gaze fall to the ground.

"Don't look so depressed!" exclaimed Peter, walking into the gloomy light from the shadows. "Didn't you hear? We have this fancy new plan that will almost certainly cause unbelievable pain and suffering for all those involved and only has a minimal chance of success… Seems _right_ up our alley, don't you think?"

"If only it were _that_ easy," Clyde said. He moved away from the maps spread across Derek's table and entered the circle of conversation. "When you put it that way, it only seems too simple… And too risky." He crossed his arms and looked directly at Lydia. "I'm not going to kill you; this… _plan_ will not kill you. It just might… _change_ you for a time. For the worse, of course."

"Of course," the strawberry blonde replied, fighting to keep control of her emotions. "So… do I get to hear what the plan is?" She looked over at the maps in an attempt to keep control of her emotions.

"By contacting you almost a month ago, I opened up a connection," Clyde explained. He pushed back his dark hood to reveal that vibrant red hair of his. Amber eyes peeked from underneath his bangs in an almost menacing manner, but if Lydia was frightened, she didn't show it. "Not just between us, but between you and the feeder… Stiles." He smirked. "That could have only happened if you already had a strong emotional connection with him. Not only are you a banshee, linked to death and despair, but you are also linked to this feeder on more than just a passersby-level."

"In other words," Peter interjected, "we got very, _very_ lucky."

Clyde nodded. "I doubt that Stiles is aware of just how much he depends on you, on _all_ of you, emotionally. Luck would have it that one of those he depends on just so happens to be a fairly useful conduit."

"You still haven't explained to me what you need to do… and how this is going to help Stiles," Lydia stated quietly. Clyde nodded.

"Yes, onto the plan." He stepped closer to Lydia; the wolves remained on high alert. "As you all know," he said, glancing around the loft, "the bite is how we subdue, how we control, how we _feed_… For werewolves, it is much the same, only your prey ends up in tatters instead of a loyal food bank." Scott's jaw twitched, the motion exaggerated by its unevenness. "I'm not saying all werewolves are monsters, just as not all maagrim are. What I'm saying is that… You use claws, correct?" he asked, suddenly changing direction and looking at Peter.

The older man squinted at Clyde. "For what? Slashing?"

"_Remembering_," Clyde corrected. "Connecting… Not just to the past, but to each other."

Peter crossed his arms as well. "It's a complex maneuver that usually fails, but yes. We do."

"And I can do the same," Clyde replied. He opened his mouth and the others watched as his teeth grew razor sharp. "Only my tools are my teeth." He turned to Lydia. "Let me bite you, let my poison enter your blood, your nervous system, your brain… use it to search for someone experiencing the same sensations. _That_ is how you will find Stiles."

"But what about Lydia?" Aiden said, snapping his hand in the young woman's direction. "Now that we're _finally_ in the loop, it doesn't sound like the side effects are really all that desirable."

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Clyde replied. "I've been informed of Lydia's past experiences with a werewolf bite and mistletoe. If my assumption is correct, she will be immune to the… lesser qualities of my venom."

"Your _assumption_," Aiden mocked.

"Aiden, please," Lydia said tersely. She spared a moment to glance at her friends; despair was written all over their faces… the way they were controlling their emotions was admirable. Finally, Lydia squared her shoulders and looked Clyde directly in the eyes. "I'll do it."

"Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Sit here."

Clyde motioned towards the edge of Derek's bed and Lydia gently sat down. She didn't need to admit that she was scared; her body trembled and sweat formed at her temples. The werewolves and Allison all stood less than two feet away, ready to intervene at a moment's notice. Clyde looked at her expectantly, but said nothing, simply waiting for her to give the go-ahead. Not much later, she nodded.

"Focus on Stiles," Allison prompted quietly.

With gentle hands, the maagrim sat next to her and slowly pulled back the collar of her dress. "Hold still," he whispered. "This might sting." However, nothing could have prepared Lydia for the initial agony of the bite.

Clyde sank his teeth into Lydia's soft skin, eliciting a blood curdling scream out of the girl. The werewolves growled and covered their ears while Allison made a move towards Lydia and Clyde. "Lydia!" she shouted. "Find Stiles! Find him!" However, the screaming persisted. Just as Allison was about to pry the maagrim off of her, Lydia silenced herself and whispered, "Wait…"

Now that they could hear, everyone looked into Lydia's eyes. They were darting back and forth rapidly, non-blinking, tears falling down her face. "Wait…" she whispered again. It was obvious that whatever she was seeing and feeling had nothing to do with the loft, the bite… No, Lydia was somewhere else

"WAIT!" she screeched.

At this, Clyde practically threw himself to the floor, letting out his own cry. The werewolves covered their ears yet again, Allison also joining them in an attempt to block out the screams that flooded the loft. Suddenly, the front door slid open and Scott, Isaac, and Derek all stumbled in. "What happened!?" Scott growled, already in his wolf-like state. Isaac and Derek followed suit.

"Shut him up!" Peter shouted in response, looking over at the writhing Clyde. Thinking quickly, Scott released a guttural roar… it did the trick. Clyde snapped out of it, managing to curl up into a tiny, trembling ball.

"What the hell was that?" Aiden growled.

Ethan snarled in response. "I'd like to know myself."

"It was me," Stiles replied, surprising them all.

"Jesus!"

"Lydia…!?"

"What the _hell_!?"

Everyone whipped around to see Lydia standing before them, her face blank… save the thick black liquid that seeped from the corners of her eyes and oozed from her ears, nose, and the corners of her mouth. It was a rather macabre sight.

"Lydia…" Allison whispered.

"I was asleep," said Stiles' voice, though Lydia's lips formed the words. The entire scenario was deeply disturbing. "Why… why did you wake me up…? Let me sleep…"

"Stiles…?" Scott braved, taking a step towards Lydia. The young woman's pupils had expanded to swallow over half of the white of her eyes. It instantly reminded him of when Stiles attacked them in the locker room.

"Scott…" Stiles' voice choked out. It seemed as though he was having trouble forming the words. "Please… leave me alone… This is for the best…"

"No, it isn't!" Scott replied. In the corner of his eye he saw Clyde force himself upright. He looked similarly affected – blood liquid oozing for nearly every orifice.

"S… Scott…" he wheezed. He tried to stand, but was unsuccessful. Allison appeared at his side to help him sit up. "Scott, find him…"

The alpha turned back to Lydia, but her frightening eyes were fixed on Clyde. "I'm… sorry," Stiles said through her.

Clyde scoffed. "I knew what I was doing," he replied.

"And now you will die," Stiles stated. The room was deathly silent.

"Most likely," Clyde said. He coughed, blackened blood splattering the floor. "But she has to be stopped… _you_ have to be stopped."

Lydia's head cocked to the side. "I _am_ stopping her… this is the only way… now, please… let me sleep…"

Suddenly, Lydia's eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed. "Lydia!" Aiden shouted as he rushed to her side. Scott quickly followed.

"Is she alright!?" he asked. However, with a quick and heightened listen he was able to determine that Lydia's breathing was regular and her heart was beating steadily. "Clyde!" he growled, turning to the maagrim in their midst. He was met with another grotesque surprise.

Clyde was convulsing violently on the floor, his veins prominent in his neck and forehead as the strange throws wracked his body. "A… ssk... H-her… wha… where… Shhhe'll know…" He gave one final twist before falling limp.

"…is he…" Peter began.

"Dead?" Allison asked. She placed two fingers at Clyde's neck and waited. After a moment, her hand fell to her side. "Yeah, he's dead…"

"How the hell did he die?" Peter asked. "And how did he neglect to mention that to us?"

"I poisoned him…"

"Lydia!" Allison exclaimed, moving to the side of her now-conscious friend. "Here," she said, pulling off her old sweater and using it wipe away at Lydia's neck. The banshee grabbed it from her and began to dab at her face. "What…"

"I saw it all… I heard it all… I heard _her_… 'Daliah'… She has Stiles… and she killed Clyde…"

"How? All he did was bite you," Isaac pointed out.

"Wait… remember how he was when he drained the corpses of the other maagrim… Daliah's venom?" Scott asked. "If left overs made him that sick… and, for a moment, Lydia was directly connected to Stiles, a living, breathing source…"

"…Stiles must be completely poisoned," Isaac finished. "And it killed Clyde."

"He should have said something," Scott growled.

"It's too late now," Peter snapped. "More importantly, let's find out what we've learned. Lydia?" he said, directing his attention to the young woman. "Stiles spoke with us for a moment, as you're probably aware… I don't suppose he happened to show you where he was hiding as well? If this 'Daliah' can kill from a distance, then I'd like to get this killing and avenging and such over with."

Lydia nodded and, with the help of Aiden, slowly stood. "There was… fear… and confusion everywhere… I was seeing through him… Like… borrowing his eyes… He knew I was there, but he didn't say anything to Daliah… She was too busy… _feeding_…" She shuddered as a single _normal_ tear fell down her cheek. "He's in so much pain… and he thinks this is the only way he can save everyone…"

"Did you see anything you recognized?" asked Scott, trying to reign in his urgency. It wasn't Lydia's fault that Stiles' mind was a hazed, poisoned, drugged mess… but time was of the essence.

Much to his dismay, Lydia shook her head. "No… I didn't see anything… but…"

"But!?"

"He whispered something to me…" she said quietly. Her eyes widened and darted back and forth, as if reliving the experience in her head. "He said… don't jump."

"…and!?" Scott prompted, but Lydia just stared at him. "Damnit, that tells us nothing!"

"You're wrong," Derek said, speaking up for the first time. He stepped forward over Clyde's twisted corpse and pulled a map off of the table. "Lydia was facing this map when Clyde bit her, right?" he asked. Scott nodded. "Look… we've searched nearly every inch of this city, right? Except for here." He pointed to the last two sections on the map. "Look at his building, here… by the train tracks." Everyone crowded in close.

Scott saw it first. "Don't jump… the tracks," he whispered, pointing to the symbol that meant 'danger'. "There's a bunch of signs here about not jumping the tracks… too many kids were hurt playing chicken… I remember the assembly about it in the sixth grade."

"He's leading us to this building… if we move _now_, we might be able to catch him before the maagrim finds out he warned us."

"Then what the hell are we waiting for," Isaac said enthusiastically.

Without further ado, the entire group set off to the old building by the railroad tracks.

…the disappointment at finding an empty building, heavy with the scent of Daliah's venom and Stiles' blood, was nearly crippling.

Despite their searching, the doubling-back, and endless texts and calls, there was no sign of the monster _or_ Stiles anywhere. The sheriff, already a mess from discovering what Stiles had got mixed up in, filed a missing persons' report on his son… However, neither hair nor hide was seen of the teen.

When two weeks passed in this manner, Scott and his pack could only assume the worst… and it crushed them.

OoooO

Holy CRAP! Have 15 pages. :D


	11. Pre-Existing Condition

W….. T F. I was NOT prepared for that. Were you!? I wasn't!

OoooO

Scott had lost count of the hours he'd racked up sitting at his kitchen table, staring at the door as if he expected Stiles to just walk in. Of course, that hadn't happened. _Two weeks had passed and it hadn't happened_. No matter how much he tried to deny it, Scott knew that the others were starting to lose hope… and so was he.

"Honey," said his mother, suddenly appearing at his side. He spared her a small glance, but otherwise remained silent. Melissa took a seat across from him and gingerly grabbed his hands. "Scott."

The alpha pulled his hands away. His mother tried to hide her hurt expression. "…I'm sorry," he said, running a hand over his face. "Mom, I'm sorry… It's just-"

"I know, honey," she replied. She offered him an understanding smile that lifted a small bit of the self-loathing from his heart. "I know."

"I just don't understand how he could have disappeared," Scott whispered. How many times he had said that, he didn't know… but it was an ever-persisting truth. Stiles had just… _vanished_.

His sorrowful train of thought was interrupted by the steady vibration of his phone on the table. _Deaton_.

"Hello!? What'd you find!?" he said, barely sliding the answer bar in time. He couldn't help his overzealousness; trying to find out more about the maagrim and what she had done to Stiles – how she had _changed_ him – was all he had left to occupy his mind.

_-Two Weeks Ago-_

_ "You're sure this is the one?" Allison asked as they lined up quietly outside the station's back door. According to their deductions, this was the only place that the maagrim could be hiding Stiles. They had quickly thrown together a game plan and set out to rescue their friend._

_ "I'm sure of it," he replied, his voice firm. "Time to split. Derek, Isaac, go around to the tunnel entrance… just in case. Then we'll-"_

_ "Wait!" Isaac said, startling them all._

_ "What!? We're wasting time! We need to move out now!"_

_ "Without telling them what Stiles can do!?"_

_ Scott blinked. 'Oh…'_

_ "Scott? What's he talking about?" Lydia asked._

_ How could it have slipped his mind? Scott suddenly felt incredibly foolish. Here they were, woefully unprepared for what could potentially be the worse monster they've fought yet… and he completely forgot to mention that not only did Stiles _fight_ them… but he did it with abilities that he ought not to possess. If they were going to rush into this without asking questions first, then he'd best prepare them as well as he could._

_ "Scott?" Allison said, lowering her bow._

_ The alpha sighed. "When Isaac and I tried to confront him… I don't know how he did it, but he was able to fend us off. Not just by running away… Hell, he didn't even touch us."_

_ "He basically force threw us," Isaac elaborated. The others stared at Scott in silence._

_ "I don't know how strong it is… how he does it… if it's the maagrim, or what… But that's that. And, honestly… it's not going to stop me from going in there and finding him."_

_ "You really thought neglecting to mention that little detail was a good idea?" Derek asked, obviously irritated. Scott sighed through his teeth._

_ "Do you really think it matters right now!? We're here! Let's go!"_

_-Present-_

But they hadn't found anything.

There wasn't even a trace of Stiles' scent – his _or_ the maagrim's. It had been a bitter disappointment further exacerbated by the fact that they had been searching for nearly two weeks and had yet to find a single clue. At this point, Scott would take _anything_ as far as intel on Stiles was concerned.

_"I'm sorry, Scott,"_ Deaton finally replied. _"I've been digging up as much as I can on these creatures, but… I can only speculate at this point."_

Scott's heart dropped into his feet. He hung up on his mentor without a proper goodbye and slid his phone across the table in frustration. Luckily, his mother caught it before it went sailing off the edge and shattered into a million tiny pieces. She looked at him in an attempt to console him, but the teen already put his head on the table. There was nothing Melissa could do and it broke her heart.

OoooO

He had no idea where he was. The crumbling concrete and unfamiliar scent of rotting wood only further masked the identity of his location. The scenery was dull and grey, the sounds muddled from the fog and rain outside, and the building dark from lack of electricity. Nothing about it was homely or comfortable. Nothing about it made Stiles feel any less disgusting than he already did… nothing other than the sweet release of oxy in his body and the gnashing-yet-tender bites from Daliah. Only these things seemed to quell the unrest in his mind and body. Until the pain began, he would just sit there alone and staring out of the unfamiliar window into a dingy, unfamiliar street… waiting.

"Y'know… I never really understood why I was so drawn to your family… to _you_…" Daliah said as she walked from the darkness. Stiles turned from the window and walked further into the building, plopping down on an old mattress in the center of the room. Daliah followed him. "Not until now."

"Oh?" he asked, his voice scratchy from disuse.

"Your cousins were… quiet appetizing," she explained with a tone of amusement, "but not so _filling_ as you are." Stiles felt the edge of the mattress depress beside him and he closed his eyes. "It's more than just misery that runs through your veins."

"I thought you didn't drink blood," he commented. Daliah chuckled.

"Not blood, Stiles… _Power_."

His breath caught as he felt Daliah's hands upon his torso. She took little care in whether or not her nails scratched the wounds she had left there. "Wha… what power…" he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. The teen may have succumbed to her bite, but it was taking everything he could to resist everything else… He was weak… Weak and pathetic… Those words alone kept him as vigilant as possible.

"I would've never known you, Stiles," she replied, placing a gentle kiss upon his brow. He felt her weight on his stomach as she straddled him. "If not for the Nemeton shouting it to the world… to those who listened for it…"

"The Nemeton?" Stiles asked, accidentally opening his eyes. Daliah was mere inches from his face and he was instantly lost in her gaze.

She slowly unzipped Stiles' hoodie, running her nails down the bared chest underneath. "And to think… all it took was a supercharged Celtic tree to open that door for you."

Something deep within the recesses of Stiles' mind reached out… something almost forgotten… "A do-"

Daliah's lips silenced his own. Unable to resist her sway, Stiles felt his willpower fading… And, before long, he was kissing her back, stripping the rest of his hoodie so that she could bite him, drink him, have her fill… and leave him in a blissful, numb haze of nothingness.

No weakness lay there.

No pain.

No memories.

Just sweet, sweet, nothing.

OoooO

It looked the same as when he'd left it. A few books tossed here and there, socks and a pair of pants haphazardly thrown in the vicinity of the clothes hamper, an open laptop and various food wrappers surrounding it atop his desk… The sheriff hadn't touched a thing since Stiles had gone missing. Despite the looks everyone had started to give him, the sheriff knew that Stiles would want it just as he'd left it when he got back.

_If he came back at all._

Sheriff Stilinski shook his head. That was one outcome he just wasn't willing to accept yet. It didn't matter how long Stiles had gone missing… or under what circumstances. He was going to keep looking, just as he knew that Scott and the others were looking… Unless he was holding Stiles or Stiles' body, he wasn't going to stop.

After waiting a moment longer, the sheriff stepped into his son's room. Despite the horror stories he'd been told about the monster they were hunting, nothing in Stiles' room seemed amiss. So with a heavy heart and a careful hand, he began to search Stiles' room. He wasn't sure what he would find; he didn't even really know what he was looking for. All he knew was that sitting idly on his hands for the better part of two weeks was killing him.

"Come on, Stiles," he mumbled as he sifted through various papers and overturned pile after pile of his son's things. Maybe there was a clue to where he was… it was just hidden. Maybe the sheriff would find evidence of Stiles' slip into the monster's control. Maybe this, maybe that… It did little to calm the sheriff's nerves as he continued searching.

"Damnit, Stiles, there's gotta be _something_ here," he growled. His searching became more frantic; what had started out as slow rummaging became a flurried rampage through the teen's belongings. The harder he looked, the more control the sheriff lost… until he finally collapsed against his son's bed.

Nothing.

Not a damn thing.

"Where are you…" A whimper slipped through the sheriff's lips as he looked around his son's room. What was once organized messiness was now complete and total chaos… nothing of it seemed like his son… the boy that had disappeared two weeks ago seemed nothing like his son… he was losing _everything_.

With only one tear, the man stood and began to tidy Stiles' room.

OoooO

A knock at the door finally brought Scott back to reality. He hadn't realized how long he'd kept his head down, wallowing in misery. He still wasn't motivated enough to answer the door, though, so his mother took the liberty. Scott didn't bother listening in, instead opting to put his head right back down on the table.

"Scott…?"

The teen's head jerked up at the familiar voice. Warm yet sad brown eyes met his own. "…Allison."

The girl smiled and took a seat adjacent to Scott. "Hey… You're mom let me in… I hope that's okay…"

"It's fine," Scott replied with a shrug of his shoulders, though he didn't linger in her gaze for long.

"Scott… Talk to me. Please." The alpha was silent. "Lydia… she blames herself. She won't talk to me… and all I know is that everyone _else_ is worried about _you_. Scott, _I'm worried about you_… You need to talk to me."

It took a moment, but the alpha finally managed to look up at his friend. "…since when did you become a counselor?" he asked, his voice neutral.

Allison smiled sadly. "I'm not here to patronize you, Scott… I'm worried. We're all worried about each other, you know? It's just… you and Lydia are taking this the worst out of all of us… That," she paused as her cheeks flushed ever so slightly in embarrassment, "and your mom was nice enough to let me in."

Scott allowed his expression to soften slightly. "…you're right. I'm sorry," he said quietly. "It's just that… I've been thinking about where we are and where we were…" He looked fully at Allison, allowing her to see every bit of sorrow and remorse in his eyes. "Remember when we skipped school? And that was the challenge of the year?! About hiding from your dad or… or… or me keeping my grades up!? Remember when that was the worst of our worries?"

Allison lowered her gaze. "I remember."

"And, now… now people are dying. Erica, Boyd, our friends… I thought I could handle it, y'know? I thought I could do everything and anything that was required of me to be an alpha… to protect the ones I love…"

"Scott-"

"And I let my best friend slip through my fingers…"

Allison remained silent.

"I let him slip through my fingers, Allison. And you… I let you slip right through them, too… I couldn't help Jackson or Erica and Boyd… Isaac as well… I let everyone down… I was so wrapped up in myself that I let everyone around me slip away!" He paused and Allison met his eyes – they were nearly frantic. "I can't… I can't lose anyone else, Allison… If I can't keep those around me safe, how can I call myself an alpha? How can I say that… when I can't protect people I love, even Deaton, or my mother, or… you? How!?"

At that last statement, Allison froze. Scott could hear her breath catch in her throat… it made his chest ache even worse.

"I know," he said, "I know that you and I are through. That we're over. And I know about Isaac and all of that and just… _I know_… But…"

Suddenly, Allison's slender hand reached out and grabbed Scott's. "Scott," she said hoarsely. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Scott, listen to me… I'm not going anywhere."

"But, Stiles-"

"No, Scott. _Nothing_ will snatch me away. Nothing and no one. As long as there is evil and darkness to be fought here, then I'll be here just the same… There are people here that I love and want to protect, too, Scott… and nothing will stand in the way of that. I'm not going to be taken away, I'm not going to abandon you or Stiles, and I'm not going to die. _Nothing is going to stand in the way of protecting my friends_. And that's coming from a human… Scott…"

"…"

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "Nothing should be able to stand in your way, either."

OoooO

There was a very light click-clack as the last couple oxy fell from the pill bottle and into Stiles' mouth. He stared at the container with contempt as he dry-swallowed the tiny favors. He was out… Completely and totally out of the only other thing that kept him functioning…

And that was just it. Without them, he would cease to have his own mind, his own heart, his own will… He would have to venture out and retrieve more.

The thought of leaving his strange encampment become more appealing the more he thought about it. He couldn't deny that the idea of fresh air was better than sitting in solitude for much longer. It puzzled him as to why he hadn't considered exploring his surroundings earlier. However, he quickly solved the riddle; what use was it to wander? He wasn't going anywhere anyways… There was nothing left for him, save this… And this would only last until every last drop of his humanity was drained from him by the monster Daliah.

However, this was an issue… The only way he survived the periods between her bites was with the drugs. Without them, he'd be her slave completely… with no ability to resist her in any capacity. It was his lucky night, then, for she had already left for the evening. Stiles had no idea what she did during her wanderings… only that they were random. More often than not, she was with him, either sleeping during the day or draining him in the night.

Finally reaching a decision, Stiles prepared himself for the journey by lacing up his sneakers and zipping the hoodie over his naked torso. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him: he didn't actually have experience buying drugs. On top of that, he didn't even have any money.

"Damnit," he cursed quietly. He almost jumped at the sound of his own voice.

This only meant one thing: he'd have to return home for money… And, if anyone was home, he'd have to brave the ones he'd betrayed.

OoooO

One final sip and the druid's tea mug was empty. Deaton sighed; this night was proving to be more and more difficult. Not matter how many nights he had spent pouring over every source he owned, he just couldn't manage to find anything more on the maagrim and the effects they had on their hosts, aside from the obvious. He hated calling Scott every night with bad news, but he'd promised to check in daily… just in case.

The clinic phone began to ring. Since calls during the night were rare, he decided to let the machine answer. If it was an emergency, he'd respond, but other than that…

_"Um… Hi. Hello. This is Melissa. McCall. Scott's mom…"_

Deaton stopped what he was doing immediately and listened intently.

"_I, uh… I don't have your personal number, so I thought that maybe this was the next best way to reach you… I know what you and Scott have been looking into and I think I mi-"_

"Hello!" he answered, slightly out of breath. "My apologies, I was in my office and I assumed it was a client trying to set up an appointment."

"_It's no problem,"_ Melissa replied.

"You said you had something? Potentially?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the receiver. _"I don't know if it'll help, but… at least it's something."_

Deaton let out his own sigh. "At this point, I'm willing to hear anything… How's Scott, by the way? I haven't seen him since last week and…"

"_He's taking it pretty hard,"_ the boy's mother replied, _"which is why I figured it'd be better to help where I could instead of assuming that this was nothing…"_

"And by 'this' you mean…"

"_Stiles' mother."_

The druid had to admit… he hadn't been expecting that. "I… don't know much about her," he confessed. "From what little I've gleaned, she died several years ago, yes? Some sort of… terminal illness?"

"_That's correct,"_ Melissa replied. _"It wasn't the easiest passing, either… which is why I think 'this' is important…"_

"I'm listening."

Deaton waited patiently while Scott's mother listed off a variety of symptoms and similarities. As she continued, a certain idea began to form in the druid's mind. Under any other circumstances he would have labeled the idea impossible… But this was Beacon Hills…. Where the impossible became more than likely something that might drag you off into the woods and eat you.

"Could you stay on the line, please?" he asked, struck with inspiration.

"_Yeah, of course…"_

The sound of various papers being tossed about filled the receiver. Melissa McCall waited patiently while Deaton began to connect the dots to… _everything_. Finally, the entire ordeal made perfect sense.

"You need to send Scott here right away," he said.

"_You have something!?"_

"Please, just send him as soon as possible."

OoooO

The sheriff kept his gaze fixed on the fifth of Jameson. It sat innocently on his kitchen counter, new, completely untouched, seal unbroken, ready for the drinking… Stilinski couldn't even remember the last time he drank whiskey, though he was pretty sure that had something to do with Stiles pouring drink after drink down his throat to make him a little more forthcoming with information.

Thinking of his son's wily ways only made the pain of his absence worse. He wondered if he would have the willpower to resist drinking throughout this new ordeal… He'd been dangerously close to alcoholism when his wife passed… he didn't know if he could survive losing his last remaining family.

He was so lost in his somber thoughts that he almost didn't notice the squeak of his front door opening. 'At 10:30 at night' he thought, his heart skipping a beat. Then, another thought occurred to him and he rushed from the kitchen and into the hallway.

There stood his son, just as surprised to see his father as the sheriff was to see him… He was pale, sickly, and looked like death, but there he was. Stiles, his son… standing before him…

The sheriff ran to him, wrapping his arms around the frail boy. "Stiles," he whispered through choking sobs. "Stiles, my son…"

"Get… off me…"

The words stung as they fell from Stiles' mouth, but not as bad as the shove did. Sheriff Stilinski stared at his son incredulously as the teen kept his arm outstretched… Stiles could barely keep himself upright.

"No, Stiles," the sheriff whispered. His son could barely focus his gaze on the man as he tried to step past him. "No!" he shouted, lunging forward.

"Let go!" Stiles growled as he attempted to dislodge himself from his father yet again. "Please, Dad… Just let me go!"

"No," the sheriff sobbed as he clutched his son. "I'm here for you now… I'm not letting you go. I'm not letting you go back to that monster."

"It's the only way," Stiles whispered, his voice catching in his throat. "Please!" he continued to struggle. "This is the only way I can save you… Dad, _this is the only way you live_…"

"I don't care."

At this, Stiles' entire demeanor changed.

"I don't care what you think," he spat out with a voice like acid. He pushed away and backed against the wall. "I just came for more drugs."

The sheriff's eyes widened. "Stiles, you can't mean that…"

"I mean it!" he shouted. The exertion made his knees weak and he slid down the wall. "I need them… I need them to survive _you_! Not that monster… I see you got the booze out, huh? Come on, Dad, let me have a sip. Like father like son, you pathetic alcoholic…"

The sheriff just shook his head and whispered, "I love you, Stiles."

"I don't care…"

"Yes, you do!" his father plead. "And even if you mean that… you're still my son… and I love you… and I'm so sorry that I wasn't there for you…"

At this, Stiles grew still. His strength was beginning to fail him. "D… Dad…"

His father sucked in a breath. "I'm so sorry…" He reached out to his son and clutched him in his arms once more. "I'm so sorry…"

For a moment, all of his strength, that little tiny part of Stiles that had given him the strength to make the decision to stay away… the part that kept him from asking for help for fear of what he'd put his friends and family through… it fell away.

He gripped his father's jacket with renewed intensity. "_I'm _sorry," he whispered as he buried his head in his father's shoulder. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be rid of Daliah, of the burden he carried, of the pain and misery… He wanted to be held, to be safe, and to feel happiness once again.

In that moment, he wanted to come home.

OoooO

"Deaton!" Scott called out as he and Allison entered the clinic.

"In here!" shouted the mentor from within. The two teens quickly made their way inside where they found Deaton in his office, surround by mountains of documents. "I'm glad you made it here quickly."

"Mom said it was an emergency," the alpha explained.

Deaton nodded. "It is… I think I've discovered what it is about Stiles… What makes his little 'show of affection' to you and Isaac possible."

Scott glanced at Allison before taking a seat on a small stool. "Tell me everything."

At this, his mentor sifted through several different documents before presenting a few of them to Scott and Allison. They mostly contained different species of shape-shifters known to humanity… At least, what little documented proof there was that was reliable. "I'm sure you recognize these; werewolf, kanima, and so on," Deaton proffered. Scott nodded.

"Yeah, all of these… Wow, I didn't even know half of these species existed…"

"Exactly. It's a vastly untapped resource, the supernatural world… But, even for all its vast weirdness, there are rules and such that make sense… that line up. There are Druids and kanimas and such, but there's a method to the madness… even to an ancient, Celtic tree stump." He pulled out a few more sheets of old paper. "Rarely, and I mean _rarely_ does mutation occur within the species. The transfer of toxins from creature to human is a natural reaction… like being bitten by a snake. Or a spider. You're poisoned… or transformed, in this case. You either survive or you die. Nothing more, nothing less."

He stared expectantly at the two, but the teens were silent. Finally, Allison shook her head. "I don't understand… what does this have to do with Stiles?"

The druid grabbed the document with an illustration of a nasty-looking lizard on it. "Think of Jackson… He was bitten by a werewolf, so… by all logic, he should have become one, yes?"

"Yeah, but he didn't," Scott replied. Then, he paused. "…because there was something wrong with him…"

"Yes!" Deaton replied. "An anomaly. A pre-existing condition. Jackson's emotional instability was so damaging, so powerful, that it completely altered the outcome of The Bite. He was already an incredibly unstable human being. It only makes sense."

"So, the maagrim didn't pass on this power to Stiles then," Allison deducted.

Deaton shook his head. "No, the maagrim don't possess any natural abilities of telekinesis, or the ability to move objects with their minds… They're natural powers are the amplification of emotions, sensations, and the removal of these as well. They operate on a strictly emotion-based power scheme. In conclusion, they cannot cause random abilities to develop in a human…

"…unless the potential is already there," Scott finished. Deaton nodded again.

"Exactly."

Allison crossed her arms. "You mean… Stiles always had this ability? To, y'know… move objects with his mind?"

"Yes and no," the mentor replied. "We all know now that the maagrim are drawn to the miserable, yes?" The teens nodded. "And do you remember what I said about becoming surrogate sacrifices for the Nemeton?"

"You said it'd make this place a beacon… that it'd draw the supernatural here," Scott replied.

"Stiles is… not really the most emotionally stable person we know, either," Deaton said, careful not to sound harsh. "And by using him as a surrogate sacrifice, we broadcasted that information to the entire supernatural community. Not only that, but if he has this hidden ability, then that information was broadcasted as well… I don't know about you, but I'm a starving a monster, then I would want something filling, especially if it was so easy for the taking, not just any Joe Blow on the street with heartbreak."

"But we gave power to the Nemeton, not ourselves," Allison interjected.

"Ah!" Deaton said with a shake of his finger. "This is where you're mother came in handy, Scott."

"My mom?" the alpha inquired.

"She overheard many of our conversations," Deaton explained, "and she suddenly remembered something… about Stiles' mother." He sighed deeply as he plunged into the unpleasant topic. Allison listened intently; she could see the sorrowful expression on Scott's face deepen at the mention of his best friend's mother. Of course, she hadn't met any of them yet when Stiles' mother passed away, but she knew enough to never bring it up in casual conversation. "It seems," Deaton continued, "that as Claudia's health began to decline, she started claiming to have certain… _abilities_."

"Stiles' mom thought she had telekinesis," Scott said flatly.

"No, but there were other things she claimed she could do," the druid explained. "According to your mother, the worse she got, the stronger and more uncanny these claimed abilities became; she said she would speak with the dead, listen to what people's hearts truly wanted, sense the emotions of those around her… basically a epithet on steroids. The part that most often shocked people was the degree to which she was accurate."

Scott felt a chill run down his spine. "So… you think Stiles got it from her?"

Deaton shrugged. "That's the only logical assumption… Your mother would have dismissed it entirely if not for the similarity of the situation. It might be death that connects the two; as Claudia Stilinski became worse and worse, her powers became stronger and stronger… Stiles technically _died_… and I think that act of being the surrogate sacrifice was what connected the circuits inside him to allow this power to actually manifest."

"It would make him the ideal feeder," Allison reasoned bitterly.

"Ideal indeed," he replied. "You mentioned that Stiles spoke through Lydia briefly?" he asked the teens.

"Yeah… when Clyde was still alive. He was trying to locate them," Scott answered.

"I'm not sure how much you know about Stiles' parents and his mother's death, but the sheriff once shared with Melissa that his wife communicated with him through a dying girl… a car crash victim. The woman had told him it was okay to leave, to go back to his wife if he wanted, but he chose to stay. Back at the hospital, Stiles' mother could only speak of how proud she was of her husband… That she had given him an opportunity to be at her side, but he couldn't abandon the civilians he had made an oath to protect… Apparently, no one knew what she was talking about."

"So, you think that the whole thing with Stiles talking through Lydia… that was actually all Stiles' doing? No help from Clyde?" Scott asked. His mentor nodded.

"Yes, I believe so."

"Then we need to talk to the sheriff," Allison prompted urgently.

Scott's loud ringtone started everyone in the room. "Woah… sorry," he said sheepishly as he pulled it out. "Huh… Speak of the devil." _Sheriff Stilinski_ was displayed across the top. "Hey," he answered. "I was just about… to…"

Allison and Deaton didn't need supernatural hearing to pick up the frantic voice of Stiles' father on the other end. Scott's eyes widened. Moments later, without a good bye, he hung up the phone.

"We need to get to Stiles' house. NOW."

OoooO

Exciting! I hope you enjoyed it… Things are getting crazy… So I'm gonna go stare at Stiles gifs on tumblr for a few hours.


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